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DRACHENFELS. 



A HOLIDAY TOUR 



IN EUROPE. 



BY 



JOEL COOK 



1> 7 



, ., " 



NEW EDITION WITH ILLUSTRATIONS. 




PHILADELPHIA: 
DAVID McKAY, PUBLISHER 

23 South Ninth Street. 
1889. 



8<\ 



A 



f» 



Copyright, 



>, by David McKay. 



Of C ONGR ESS 



INTEODUOTIOE". 



When the writer of this collected series of letters 
started on his " Holiday Tour," he had no thought of 
making a book, or of contributing any materials for a book. 
It happened, however, he being a trained journalist, with 
quickened faculty of observation, that, before passing out from 
the Capes of the Delaware, he had seen along the River and 
Bay that which he believed to be important to make publicly 
known in behalf of the material interests of the people of 
Philadelphia, and so the first letter of the series came to the 
Public Ledger office through the hands of the pilot. Next 
from Liverpool came the second letter, describing the voyage 
on the Ohio, one of the splendid steamships of the American 
Line, which ships the writer deemed to be worthy of every 
medium for more intimate introduction to the American public. 
Then began the three months of the European part of the 
" Holiday Tour," through England, Wales, Ireland, Scotland, 
France, Belgium, Bhenish Germany, Switzerland, and back 
through France, England, and Ireland, the letters prompting 
themselves as the writer passed along, until they expanded 
into the series now so familiar to the great constituency of the 
Public Ledger. 

The collection and publication of the letters in book-form 
is the result of influences wholly outside of their author. 
While they were in course of publication, expressions of 

3 



4 INTRODUCTION. 

pleasure caused by the perusal of them were frequent and 
emphatic from readers of the Public Ledger in all stations in 
life, — not only from those who had never travelled in Europe, 
but from tourists who had gone over precisely the same ground, 
and who found a keen renewal of their satisfaction in the 
" Holiday Tour." This was natural, for the letters were far 
away removed from any hackneyed or conventional style, 
being sprightly, bright, and graphic descriptions of scenes, 
incidents, places, and other subjects of observation that had 
been seen by tens of thousands of other tourists, and written 
about by scores and hundreds, but which now had a fresh and 
attractive coloring thrown over them by these letters. Expres- 
sions of satisfaction were followed by numerous requests for 
back numbers, and when these could no longer be filled, there 
came requests for their publication in collected form. Hence 
the book. 

The letters thus favorably received were written by Mr. 
Joel Cook, one of the editors of the Public Ledger ; they are 
republished, with the concurrence of Mr. Childs, in compliance 
with the suggestions already mentioned, and the undersigned 
is glad of the opportunity to add his testimony as above 
written. 

W. V. McKEAN, Managing Editor. 

Public Ledger Office, Philadelphia, 



CONTENTS. 



LETTER PAGE 

I. The Departure 9 

II. The Ocean Voyage — Neptune's Welcome ... 9 

III. The. American Steamship Line 14 

IV. A Sunday at Sea— The British Squadron ... 20 
V. Ireland and Liverpool 23 

VI. The Ancient City of Chester 29 

VII. Chester to Holyhead 32 

VIII. Dublin — Brown Stout and the Phoenix ... 37 

IX. Crossing Boyne Water — Belfast — Linen ... 42 

X. The Giant's Causeway 48 

XI. The Clyde and Glasgow 55 

XII. The Highlands— The Pass of Glencoe .... 60 

XIII. Edinburgh and Rosslin 66 

XIV. Crossing the Border— York 74 

XV. Scarborough 81 

XVI. Haddon Hall and Chatsworth 83 

XVII. Warwick, Kenilworth, and Stratford-on-Avon . . 89 

XVIII. A Sunday in London — St. Paul's, and Westminster 

Abbey 94 

XIX. London — The Underground Railway .... 100 

XX. London Sketches — Cleopatra's Needle — The Bank of 

England— The Times Office 105 

XXI. London Taxation— The Old-Clothes Market. . .113 

XXII. London — The American Minister — Popular Recreation 117 

XXIII. Some English Impressions 122 

XXIV. Brighton — England's Great Watering- Place — The 

Brighton Aquarium 129 

XXV. Crossing the Channel 134 

XXVI. Some Parisian Impressions 141 

XXVII. A Sunday in Paris— Versailles 147 

XXVIII. Paris— A French Cemetery— Pere la Chaise . . 152 

1* 5 



LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. 



PAGE 

Drachenfels Frontispiece. 

Chester Cathedral and City Wall 31 

Giants' Causeway 48 

Glasgow 58 

Edinburgh Castle G7 

Holyrood and Burns's Monument 70 

Durham Cathedral 76 

Haddon Hall 84 

Chatsworth 88 

Westminster 90 

London Bridge 101 

South Kensington Museum 119 

Paris and the Seven Bridges 141 

Palais Royal Garden 176 

Rheinfels 201 

Shattered Tower of Heidelberg 205 

St. Thomas Church, Strassburg 216 

Falls of Geisbach 229 

Freiburg Cathedral 240 

Notre Dame, West Front 276 

Canterbury Cathedral 280 



A HOLIDAY TOUR. 



LETTER I. 



THE DEPARTURE. 



Delaware Breakwater, Friday, July 12. 
The misfortunes that envelop an ocean voyage when fog 
prevails have come down like a pall over the company who 
sailed on the American line steamer Ohio from Philadelphia, 
on Thursday morning, July 11. Dense fog met us in Dela- 
ware Bay, and compelled anchorage during the night. With 
a steamer of the length and draught of the Ohio, navigation in 
a channel crowded with vessels like the path up and down the 
bay is extremely difficult at all times, and is dangerous, and, 
in fact, impossible, if safety is at all considered, during fog. 
What we should have met on the Banks of Newfoundland 
came to us below Newcastle. We passed the Cape May steam- 
boat Republic, her passengers crowding every available spot 
for observation to give us a hearty send-off, — she going up to 
the city, — and then the fog came down over us and stopped 
the voyage. We have spent twenty-four hours in the bay. 
I do not write this, which, through the courtesy of the pilot, 
I am able to send you, as any matter of news, however, for 
fugs have enveloped our entire seaboard for weeks. 



LETTER II. 



THE OCEAN VOYAGE. 



On Board American Line Steamer Ohio, July 15. 
The Five-Fathom Bank Light-ship off the entrance to 
Delaware Bay is one of the most important beacons on the 
coast. It is the earliest guide to the mariner seeking the 



10 A HOLIDAY TOUR. 

Delaware Breakwater, who comes across the ocean, and, in 
fact, is the beacon sought by the greater part of our Phila- 
delphia foreign commerce. The dark ship, with its two huge 
globes, elevated on the masts, rocks up and down on the 
waves, and in thick weather the deep sound of the fog-siren, 
worked by steam-power, comes over the water, a warning to 
the shipmaster of the beacon he cannot see. The siren sa- 
luted the Ohio as she passed within a few hundred feet ; the 
steamer answered ; and thus we bade good-by to America and 
began the transatlantic journey. Cape May was too far off 
to see more than the dim outline of the light-house and the 
huge hotels, like little hazy specks along the shore ; and in a 
few moments the land had all disappeared, as the steamer 
rapidly left it on her eastern journey. 

neptune's welcome. 

It is a curious physical fact, noticed by most landsmen who 
venture upon sea-voyages, that no matter how pleasantly the 
journey begins, or how keen the enjoymeut, as land recedes 
the spirits sink and the interest wanes. The sea, which is at 
first charming as it rocks you in its cradle, gradually changes 
to an object of aversion, and then of disgust. There seems 
to be a difference of opinion arising between the ship and the 
traveller. One wants to be quiet and the other don't. The 
ship persists in a very bad habit of rolling about, and all the 
efforts of the traveller — his bracing up and holding on, and 
stretching out and doubling in — will not keep her quiet. At 
first there is an effort to keep the ship down, but it fails ; and 
then there is an effort to keep the stomach down, and it fails. 
Then one loses all his reverence for the sea, and as he pays 
the inexorable tribute to Neptune he wishes that either he had 
never been born, or else had had good sense enough to stay 
home with his mother. Then comes a season of profound iu- 
difference to the beauties of the ocean and of positive hatred 
of victuals. Food is not only distasteful, but one does not 
want to see or smell it, or even have it talked about. In fact, 
one regards as his deadliest enemy the steward who will rattle 
the dishes and glasses, and thus from afar off recall the horrid 
idea of eating. Strange, what a metamorphosis. A few hours 
before, the first duty of the passenger was to get even with 
the steamship company by eating everything in the larder, — 



NEPTUNE'S WELCOME. 11 

but the steamship company has conquered. With shrewd 
business management, they had calculated all this when laying 
in supplies. Next comes the desire to hide away in corners, 
and to vanish from society ; to cease shining as a social light 
and a conversational prince ; in short, to go to bed, — and not to 
be particular about what bed, whether a sofa, berth, or even a 
plank. Then comes oblivion, — a period of self-abnegation and 
forgetfulness, — the only consciousness being of a very, very 
weak stomach. Thus pass hours, when the patient becomes 
aware of a vague returning interest in the world's aifairs. He 
thinks that possibly he may at some time in the dim future 
become once more a useful citizen. Next is the stage of tea 
and toast, of gruel and good advice, — of gruel that will not stay 
in the stomach, and good advice that will not stay in the mind. 
Every one advises what is best to do or to take, — principally 
the latter. The prescriptions are as varied as they are numer- 
ous. In fact, you are told to take everything, from salt mack- 
erel up or down the bill of fare, from soup at one end to 
toothpicks at the other; and to drink the entire wine list. 
Mankind are all born doctors when it comes to telling others 
how to cure their ills. The stage of advice over, the patient 
crawls out into the world again and appears on deck, sur- 
rounded by others who have been there, and a languid interest 
begins to be taken in what is going on — excepting the dinner- 
gong. Gradually this interest increases, until, amazing as it 
may seem, you actually muster up courage, in an unguarded 
moment, to look down a skylight at the table. Thus the Rubi- 
con is passed, and as man is always progressing to higher and 
better and more complete knowledge, so in this case, the look 
creates the appetite, and the next thing is to boldly march to 
the task, snap fingers at old Neptune, and win the battle. Then 
rattle plates and glasses as you please, steward, they have 
no more terrors for me. The stomach has become an aching 
void, a yawning chasm that the bill of fare is incompetent to 
fill. The solicitude is no longer lest food should come in 
sight: it is now to devise the most expeditious ways and 
means of putting it out of sight. The conflict with the 
steamship company recommences, and the pleasant labor of 
getting even with the larder begins with the rising of the sun, 
but by no means stops with the going down of the same. 
Then you poke fun at fellow-sufferers not so well advanced in 



12 A HOLIDAY TOUR. 

convalescence ; but if any one should ask, " Have you been sea- 
sick '?" the answer will be, "Oh, my, no ; never felt better in 
my life." How quickly we forget our ills ! 

ON THE SEA. 

It would be difficult to devise a method of obtaining more 
perfect rest than a sea-voyage. As the best rest is always to 
do just the opposite of what is the ordinary occupation, so the 
sea-voyage accomplishes this by being the complete antithesis 
of what happens on land. You cannot do anything if you 
would. There is no space to do it. Your abiding-place is a 
room six feet square, with berths on one side and a sofa on the 
other. Your companion has to go outside to give you a chance 
to dress. There is possibly a hundred feet or so of deck to 
walk on, but it is so unsteady that your reputation as a tem- 
perance man suffers the moment a promenade is attempted. 
The ship will roll and pitch and bump the passengers about, 
and necessitate gyrations that would do credit to an acrobat. 
When meal-time comes there is always an extra roll provided, 
— not of the French or Vienna bread, but the kind that brings 
dishes, soup, and the greater part of your dinner running down- 
hill into your lap, and then over the other side to your opposite 
neighbor. First one way, then the other, you and all about 
you are continually sliding down-hill ; and the captain, with 
that bland smile which so greatly reassures you, says he never 
saw it smoother in his life. Half the passengers declare that 
there is a big, heavy box somewhere forward, rolled from one 
side to the other, to make the ship rock and keep passengers 
away from the table. But after awhile the " sea legs" are 
got on, and this rolling is not so noticeable, though it is a bad 
habit the vessel has, which she keeps up more or less all the 
sea over. 

The chief thing done, however, on board ship is — nothing. 
The ten days' passage to Europe is the most complete exempli- 
fication it is possible to give of the meaning of that vulgar but 
expressive American word — loafing. The voyage is a prolonged 
and enforced idleness, varied by sea-sickness at the start and 
a growing anxiety for something to do as the goal approaches. 
The gong sounding for meals is the great event of the day, 
■ — it promises something to do. A passing vessel is a wonder- 
ful thing. All eyes watch .her ; all tongues guess her name, 



ON THE SEA. 13 

destination, and rig ; dispute about her distance ; and await 
with breathless interest the result of the signals. And when 
she is spoken and found to be the schooner Rappahannock, 
of Philadelphia, twenty days out, with hopes of being sold to 
the Russians for a privateer, or the Mary Jane, of Tuckahoe, 
laden with hoop-poles, all the passengers are happy. Then 
the Banks of Newfoundland are another subject of deep inter- 
est, most people supposing them to be dry land, and some will- 
ing, in the dire monotony of the voyage, to wager they are that 
or anything else, so that an interest is gotten up in something. 
The gulls and Mother Carey's chickens, porpoises and flying- 
fish, and occasionally a whale, also are subjects of earnest study. 
Some of the passengers help the captain sail the ship ; others 
try to imitate the boatswain's whistle ; others play games. 
We have some Philadelphians aboard who for fourteen years 
past have been steadily playing euchre, never changing part- 
ners, and have on this ship, according to the official record 
they keep, played their twenty-eight-thousandth game. Here 
is also a study for the ennuied passenger, that these four gentle- 
men, since 1864, in all the ups and downs of American life, 
have continued their games through weal and woe, with no 
break in their circle ; no cheating at cards, and are now 
continuing them with a vim that even sea-sickness cannot 
shake. Then the dozen or so doctors we have on board as 
passengers discuss the 'pathies, and astonish the laymen by 
taking each other's prescriptions. Thus the voyage goes on, 
dreary in fog and storm, when all things are wet and cheerless; 
pleasant on the bright days, when all hands get up on deck, 
and the ladies recline in steamer chairs and sup their chicken 
broth, and the men watch the heaving of the log, and discuss 
the distance travelled, and the position of the ship, and the 
probable length of the voyage, or the proximity of icebergs. 
The passage is carefully scanned on the chart, which hangs in 
the companion-way, and occasionally an impatient voyager is 
told that we are within two or three miles of land, and upon 
asking where, is significantly pointed downward, — the nearest 
land being the bottom of the sea. And thus we go on, setting 
our watches a half-hour ahead every twenty-four hours, taking 
our four or five meals a day, with chicken broth on deck be- 
tween meals, — and the children, of whom there are four in the 
cabin, run about to be pelted by the passengers and sailors, and 

2 



14 A HOLIDAY TOUR. 

beg oranges of the steward. But like Columbus, we are on 
the constant lookout for the approaching land, and will be glad 
indeed to hear the sailor's welcome cry announcing it. This 
is the experience of millions of transatlantic voyagers who 
have gone over the great ferry during all these years, and 
whose wonder is, that with all the vessels constantly passing 
between England and America, it is still possible for you to 
steam along for days together without seeing a single sail. 
With monotonous thump the screw goes on regularly, revolv- 
ing day and night, making its thirty revolutions a minute, 
driving the great ship forward, and boring a gimlet-hole for 
three thousand miles through the Atlantic. The officer walks 
the bridge, peering over the sea, watching the compass and 
the lookout, and giving an occasional direction to the obedient 
seamen. The lookout stands at the bow, holding on to a brace, 
intently gazing out ahead, whilst the wind blows hard enough 
to sweep him off the forecastle. The steersmen hold the wheel, 
whilst the waves dash against the rudder and shake and rattle 
the chains. The ponderous machinery moves quickly, and 
away down in the hold the perspiring firemen and coal-passers 
keep pouring in the fuel, which comes up through the huge 
funnel in dense clouds of smoke, that lie in a long, black, nar- 
row line of dark haze for miles over the sea in the wake of 
the vessel. But the harder the wind blows the brighter it 
makes the fires burn, and the easier is steam raised, so that 
it drives the steamer the quicker on her journey. Thus we go 
on, the machinery singing a lullaby at night, whilst the sea 
rocks us to sleep, and all hands trusting to the Divine Creator 
of the vast deep to take us safely across it. 



LETTER III. 

THE AMERICAN STEAMSHIP LINE. 

On Board American Line Steamer Ohio, at Sea, July 20. 
We passed a ship the other day bound to America. She 
had every sail set. We saluted. She ran up the British 
Union Jack, for she was an English vessel. We ran up the 



THE AMERICAN STEAMSHIP LINE. 15 

American flag. That flag is a scarce article in ocean commerce, 
but it is seen sometimes, and it was a proud thing to know that 
Philadelphia has raised it over as fine a fleet of steamers as 
cross the Atlantic, even if it is a rare sight to the sailor. This 
circumstance prompted the thought that possibly, if Americans 
were true to themselves, not only would our one American 
line increase in prosperity, but the lines themselves would mul- 
tiply. The chief freight traffic across the Atlantic is carrying 
grain and provisions eastward to Europe. The vessels, both 
steam and sail, go with full cargoes, and the shipment is mainly 
controlled by Americans. Many a vessel comes out to America 
in ballast to get a return cargo that will pay the expenses of 
both voyages and give a profit besides. The greater part of 
this freight is through traffic shipped from the West on 
through bills of lading, and controlled as to its transatlantic 
carriers to a large extent by trunk railway influences. The 
railways can, if they wish, put much of this on board Ameri- 
can vessels ; and, in fact, they do so, and would do more were 
it not, as I have said before, that American vessels had be- 
come a scarce article on the ocean. West-bound freight is 
scarce, difficult to get, and in fact but partial cargoes are ob- 
tainable at any time, whilst many vessels come out to America 
without any cargo yielding freight. All the western-bound 
ships we have passed have been light, possibly only carrying 
ballast. The freighting that pays, it will thus be seen, goes from 
America, and can be to a great extent controlled as to its ocean 
carrier by Americans. On a steamship line the chief profit, 
excepting in special cases, is in the freight. 

The passenger traffic across the ocean that pays the largest 
relative profit is in the steerage. Whilst it costs probably 
one dollar and a half per day to provide food for each cabin 
passenger, without calculating the extra cost of cooking and 
attendance, table-furnishing, cabin-space, etc., it will take not 
over one-fourth of that sum to feed a steerage passenger, where 
there are little or no extras that cost. Yet, whilst the cabin 
passengers — taking all classes, adults and children, and all rates 
of fare together — will average probably sixty-nine dollars in- 
come apiece to the vessel, the steerage will average twenty- 
three or twenty-four dollars apiece, which is one-third. Thus 
the relative profit is larger to begin with for the steerage, 
whilst it is increased the more by their closer stowage and the 



16 A HOLIDAY TOUR. 

very slight cost of taking care of them. Locality to a great 
extent controls steerage travel both ways across the ocean, the 
passenger seeking the most convenient port, so as to save ex- 
pense. But there is much of it controlled through agents 
operating for various lines, especially from inland points. Emi- 
gration of large communities is directed in this way, and there 
has been much competition in Europe to thus attract traffic 
for the various lines. For some time past the steerage travel 
to America, which a few years ago grew to large figures, had 
been declining, so that about an equal number of passengers 
were going each way; but latterly the movement towards 
America has considerably increased. The foreign element 
predomiuates in the steerage. In the cabin, however, the 
Americans are in the large majority. Englishmen, French- 
men, and Germans travel for business ; a few going for pleasure. 
The American, however, generally travels for pleasure, and as 
a race, comparatively speaking, the American probably fur- 
nishes proportionately more travellers than all other races 
put together. This is certainly the case on the Atlantic, 
and is probably the result of observation on all steamships 
sailing between the United States and Europe, whatever their 
flag. The statistics of the Cunard line show a large majority 
of Americans in the cabin, and the Inman, White Star, 
Anchor, and other lines will do likewise. I have heard com- 
petent judges estimate that this year, with the extra attrac- 
tion of the Paris Exposition, three-fourths of the cabin 
passengers crossing the Atlantic will be Americans. Thus it 
will be seen that Americans in reality can, if they so desire, 
control the greater part of the transatlantic travel, both in 
freight and cabin passengers, and if they were animated by a 
proper spirit they could encourage not only one, but several 
American lines. A moderate estimate is made that over fifty 
thousand Americans are this year crossing the ocean, and pay- 
ing the steamship lines four million dollars passage-money. 
What a magnificent subsidy this would be to American steam- 
ers, were there enough of them in existence to accommodate 
all the travel, and were the Americans paying it inclined to 
so spend it ! Such a subsidy would be far better than any 
grudgingly given by Congress, and would enable American 
lines to raise their flags as numerously and as boldly as the 
Union Jack or the German tricolor. I think I have written 



THE AMERICAN STEAMSHIP LINE. 17 

enough to show that a good deal of the cause of the absence 
of American ships from the ocean lies with Americans them- 
selves. If they put their own goods and trusted their own 
selves upon American vessels, there would be more of them 
afloat. They have it in their own power to create the demand 
that will again multiply American ships on the ocean, and 
enable ship-builders and steamer-owners to once more carry 
on business at a profit. 

The American line itself enjoys a full share of the trade 
that is going All its steamers carry full cargoes eastward, 
and larger vessels and more of them could be filled, if they 
were available. As it is, outside steamers are chartered to 
accommodate the trade that the four American steamers can- 
not take. Of westward trade the American line gets a full 
share, and in fact carries more than average cargoes, compared 
with other lines when coming out to Philadelphia. It also 
has its full proportion of steerage travel, and the favorite ships, 
when sailing in the season, have full cabins. But there is 
still room for American encouragement, and particularly for 
Philadelphia encouragement, in the passenger lists of the line. 
Patriotism and local pride might, if exerted, give these steam- 
ers a fuller complement in the cabin, and thus encourage the 
building of others to increase the freight traffic, which they 
could easily get, if only in existence to receive it. There are 
on the Ohio some remarkable evidences of the work of pat- 
riotism, in making the passengers select the ship because it 
carries the American flag. The most of the passengers are 
Philadelphians, with a few Permsylvanians ; but with them 
the natural instinct directed the choice. We have, however, 
seven passengers who are not of this character, of whom two 
come from Canada, two from Baltimore, two from New York, 
and one from Springfield, Illinois. With these the principle 
of selection prevailed, and in some cases at the expense of 
their pockets. They wanted to cross the ocean on the Amer- 
ican line. The two New Yorkers make no hesitation in 
avowing this intention, and one of them, a young gentleman 
from Fredonia, in probably the most remote part of New York 
State from Philadelphia, made his choice in spite of the per- 
suasion of friends to take other lines, and his patriotic impulse 
makes him quite a lion on board. It is more of this impulse 
that is needed, and which, if exerted, would give the line an 

2* 



18 A HOLIDAY TOUR. 

impetus that would make it not only an assured success, but 
might encourage its enlargement, and with this bring increased 
trade for Philadelphia. 

It is a mistake, however, to suppose that Philadelphia un- 
aided is able to support this line. In practice, whilst it fur- 
nishes a large share of the passengers, it provides very little 
of the freight. The metal importers of Philadelphia do very 
well in bringing out tin plates, etc., thus giving the ships west 
bound freight where it is most needed. But outside of this 
Philadelphia of itself does little. Chicago does better. The 
entire West does nobly. The greater part of the freight both 
ways is through traffic, which passes over the Pennsylvania 
Kailroad. The ships are in fact an European extension of 
this great railroad, which stretches its arms so widely over the 
central portions of the United States. Both for produce going 
to Europe and dry goods and other articles bound to the West 
from Europe, the railroad and steamers together provide a line 
of communication unexcelled in its facilities. The terminal 
conveniences at Philadelphia, as is well known, excel those of 
any other transatlantic line. These advantages cheapen and 
increase traffic, and the Western shippers have found it out, 
so that they send the steamers actually more produce than they 
can carry to Europe, whilst the large houses in Chicago and 
elsewhere that deal in foreign goods find this the most expedi- 
tious and convenient mode of bringing them out. It may be 
considered that the American line, to the extent that it is able 
to carry goods, is the favorite freight route between the W r cstern 
States aud England. A similar remark may be made in refer- 
ence to the Red Star line on the route between the West and 
the Continent. 

There is a general supposition that the American line pas- 
sages, on account of the greater length of the voyage, must 
necessarily be longer than those from New York. This, how- 
ever, is not the case in any but exceptional instances. The 
American steamers can show as good average records as any 
crossing the ocean. Others may have made occasionally shorter 
passages ; a few may be faster ; but in the general statistics of 
transatlantic voyages the American steamers stand very high. 
Only a half-dozen out of a steamer fleet of over a hundred 
can do better, and the majority do a great deal worse. Some 
of these steamers have made very quick passages. The Ohio 



THE AMERICAN STEAMSHIP LINE. 19 

is now on her eighty-fifth transatlantic voyage. The eighty-four 
passages already made, according to Captain Morrison's record, 
show an average time between Queenstown and Cape Henlopen 
of ten days one hour and fifty-one minutes. This average 
is for all the voyages made, at all seasons and under all circum- 
stances, winter and summer. Few steamers can show a better 
record. The relative distance between Sandy Hook and Ire- 
land and Cape Henlopen and Ireland is against the latter voyage, 
but it is not so to any great extent. The shortest distance 
that can be made between Sandy Hook and Roche's Point 
(Queenstown entrance), by Cape Race, the direct route is 2772.3 
nautical miles ; whilst from Cape Henlopen to Roche's Point 
by the same route is 2848.5 miles, a difference in favor of 
Sandy Hook of 76.2 miles. By the usually-travelled route 
eastward, that crosses the 50th meridian of west longitude at 
the 42d parallel of north latitude, the distance between Sandy 
Hook and Roche's Point is 2875 miles ; between Cape Hen- 
lopen and Roche's Point, 294-4.5 miles, a difference in favor 
of Sandy Hook of 69.5 miles. The latter route from Cape 
Henlopen, it will be seen, is 76 miles longer than the former. 
These differences, while in favor of the Sandy Hook route, have 
not in the actual experience of the various voyages operated 
against the merits of the Philadelphia steamers. Their su- 
perior speed has made up for the somewhat greater distance. 
The passage through the Delaware River is the chief item in 
lengthening the voyage ; and were the channel as thoroughly 
marked and dredged as it could be, this would be reduced to 
a minimum. The river and bay distance can be steamed over 
in six hours, but the difficulties of navigation and the large 
number of vessels always in the river frequently require re- 
duced speed and great care. Abundant caution is, however, 
a rule of the line. With staunch steamers, well-officered and 
a thoroughly-competent ship's crew on each, the line has won 
its way into public favor, and has become a permanent Ameri- 
can institution. It carries the American flag into Liverpool 
to appear there among the myriads of ensigns of all nations 
floating in the docks, and of its ships none is better or is 
more ably handled by its competent master, than is the Ohio 
by Captain Morrison. 



20 A HOLIDAY TOUR. 

LETTER IV. 

A SUNDAY AT SEA. 

American Line Steamer Ohio, at Sea, July 21. 

Sunday morning opened with the sea as smooth as a mill- 
pond, and the passengers were early on deck to enjoy the balmy 
air, and watch the passing vessels. All the sick had got well, 
and every oue was on the lookout for the bold shores of Ireland, 
which we were approaching, but the land did not come in sight 
duriug the day. In the morning the captain made his regular 
daily inspection of the ship, and took me around with him. 
Accompanied by the chief steward, carrying the keys and a 
lantern to enlighten dark places, the captain made a minute 
inspection of all parts of the ship. This is the regular cus- 
tom every morning, and the servants, standing in front of their 
respective departments, were on hand if reprimand for careless- 
ness was necessary. But it was not needed. Everything was 
clean, bright, and attractive, showing evidence of the most 
scrupulous care and neatness. These careful daily examina- 
tions, and the fact that, in proportion to the number of pas- 
sengers carried, the American steamers have a much larger 
relative number of servants, make these ships by far the 
cleanest that cross the Atlantic. Everything was in full op- 
eration at the time, and the cooks preparing for the noontide 
meal, but the neatness was as apparent as in the best- kept 
home iu Philadelphia. Wholesale scrubbing and scouring 
and airing throughout the morning had secured the desired 
result, and did it every day the same. Down in the steerage- 
deck, forward in the forecastle, in the intermediate cabin, and 
in the myriads of little offices and apartments used for all sorts 
of purposes in these floating hotels, everything was as clean as 
in thernaiu saloon. Nothing was overlooked in the inspection, 
and it gave an idea of the completeness of the ship's appoint- 
ments in every respect such as could scarcely otherwise be 
obtained. 

The inspection over, Divine service was held in the saloon. 
All of the steerage passengers who wished were brought in, 



A SUNDAY AT SEA. 21 

and, with the cabin passengers, quite filled up the saloon. 
Ordinarily, in the absence of a clergyman, the captain con- 
ducts the service, but in this case he gave permission to a lady 
on board, bound to England on an evangelical mission, to do 
this. She conducted the service in accordance with the forms 
of the Methodist Church, making the prayers, singing the 
hymns, and preaching the sermon. 

There were some things about this service which, to the 
hearers, made it probably one of the most remarkable that has 
ever occurred on a ship in the Atlantic Ocean. It was in two 
respects thoroughly typical of the great changes that have re- 
cently come over the American people. Mrs. Amanda Smith, 
who conducted it, is a colored woman, formerly a Maryland 
slave, and as I listened to her I could not help thinking of the 
change in American institutions that thus reversed the rule of 
a few years ago, and in the execution of the Civil Eights Bill 
not only permitted a negro woman to cross the ocean as a first- 
class passenger in the main saloon of an American steamer, 
but also allowed her to conduct religious service for the 
people on board. It is quite possible that such a thing has 
not yet occurred on any ship sailing under any other flag. 
But here, no clergyman being on board, she, in their absence, 
conducted the service, and thus made the Sunday at sea like a 
church-going Sunday on land. The ship's bells were tolled to 
summon the congregation, and for over an hour Mrs. Smith 
led. the service, the passengers joining in the singing, and she 
preached a sermon full of sound sense, clothed in good lan- 
guage and illustrated with frequent appropriate similes, drawn 
from the scenes through which we had passed during the voy- 
age. At the close the passengers, especially the ladies, crowded 
around and congratulated her. The deep faith and thorough 
religious zeal displayed ; her versatile talents, developed evi- 
dently without much education ; and her aptitude in drawing 
from what was occurring around her the lesson she wished to 
teach, were impressed on all. I do not believe there has here- 
tofore been a case in which an emancipated slave-woman 1 as 
conducted the religious service on a Sunday morning on any 
of our great transatlantic steamers. 



22 A HOLIDAY TOUR. 



THE BRITISH SQUADRON. 



In the afternoon the sky became overcast, frequent mists, 
with intervening sunshine, reminding us of the peculiarities 
of climate of the coasts we were approaching. Towards even- 
ing these mists disappeared, but clouds still obscured the greater 
part of the sky. About eight o'clock we were given a sight 
such as is rarely seen in crossing the Atlantic. We were 
about sixty miles from the Irish coast, and there we saw the 
North Channel Squadron of the British navy, which had 
come out for practice, lying-to for the night. There were seven 
of the large iron-clads .of the navy in two parallel columns, 
separated about a quarter of a mile apart. The admiral's flag- 
ship led the starboard column, with three huge men-of-war fol- 
lowing him at convenient distances, and the other three war- 
ships formed the port column. It was a grand sight, these ships, 
as it were, having come out to meet us and give the earliest 
welcome to the United Kingdom. The course of the Ohio 
was changed slightly to bring us nearer to the fleet, and as we 
passed under the sterns of the rearmost men-of-war our pas- 
sengers gathered together and cheered our American flag as 
it was run up on the flag-staff at the steamer's stern. We 
could see crowds of British sailors peering over their bul- 
warks at us, and then as we dipped our ensign to the fleet, 
they politely dipped theirs in return. Then the admiral in 
his flag-ship, at the head of the column, about two miles off, 
ignited his powerful electric light, recently adopted in the 
British navy as a protection from torpedo-boats and other foes 
at night, and, fixing it upon us, this grand light came from 
afar over the waters, lighting up the intervening sea almost 
like noonday. By this time it was half-past eight, and the 
deepening twilight heightened the effect of this great light, 
which is the most powerful illuminator I have yet seen. For 
at least twenty minutes, as we steamed away, this light was 
kept bearing upon us, and it was finally put out when we were 
some ten miles distant. I have no doubt from its great bril- 
liancy at that distance that it would be distinctly visible at 
least twenty miles at sea. For the purpose of illuminating 
the ocean within a circuit of a mile around the vessel there 
could scarcely be a more powerful method invented than a 
half-dozen of these lights, such as it is intended a man-of-war 



A PEEP AT OLD ERIN. 23 

shall carry when in dangerous waters. The surrounding sea 
would be lighted up as with the sun, and the ship blazing with 
stars could discern and easily destroy an approaching enemy. 
By nine o'clock we had left this fleet far in the rear, the huge 
vessels lying-to for the night, but maintaining their position 
in double column. Many were the regrets expressed that the 
United States navy could show nothing like it. Thus closed 
our Sabbath at sea. 



LETTER V. 

A PEEP AT OLD ERIN. 

Liverpool, July 23. 

The arrival off the coast of Ireland by the transatlantic 
voyager is always eagerly anticipated. He wants to get out 
of the fog and storm and pitch and roll that make the ocean 
voyage usually so unpleasant, and to relieve the dull monotony 
of a trackless waste of waters by the sight of land. Hence no 
hour in the morning is too early to rise if the early rising 
w r ill only bring a sight of Erin. We turned out at half-past 
two in the morning yesterday, and stretched out on the left 
hand, far over the waters, was the bold coast of the Emerald 
Isle. There is plenty of light in these high northern lati- 
tudes at that hour in summer-time, and there before us were 
the famous Bull, Cow, and Calf, with the light-house on the 
latter, towards which the steamer had been directing her 
prow all across the Atlantic. These are three isolated and 
curious rocks, rising abruptly in the water far out from the 
main-land, the tallest, about two hundred feet high, being the 
Bull, the broadest the Cow, and the little fellow modestly com- 
ing along behind being the Calf. The Calf, however, is the 
most important of the three, being the nearest to the course 
taken by the vast commerce which passes this way ; hence it 
has the light-house, Calf-Rock Light being, with Fastnet, 
famous the world over as the beacons marking the approach 
to the English Channel. 

It was a glorious morning, clear and beautiful, and the sun 
rose long before four o'clock over the Green Isle, as its bold 



24 A HOLIDAY TOUR. 

headlands gradual]} 7 passed in review before us ; the precipitous 
rocks running abruptly down to the water, with breakers beat- 
ing at their feet ; the highly-cultivated fields, extending to the 
very edge at the top of the rocks ; here and there a bay in- 
dented, opening up a smiling valley, with little clusters of 
white-thatched cottages scattered over the view. On nearly 
every headland was a light-house, its enclosing wall and out- 
buildings being painted white. Here, as indeed along all these 
coasts, the lighting system is complete, the beacons being 
placed in every position necessary for safe navigation. 

For several hours, as we steamed on to Queenstown, we 
passed these bold headlands, with their ragged outlines, and 
the chief noticeable feature was the almost complete absence 
of trees. In about four instances, along the entire coast to 
Queenstown, there were slight patches of foliage, generally 
around mansion-houses ; but Irish agriculture seemed every- 
where else to have no room for trees. Fastnet Rock, which 
looks as if some giant had dropped it in the sea far off the 
coast for the especial purpose of building a light-house upon, 
was passed on the right-hand side, whilst the quartermasters 
were preparing to run up their signal-flags for Browhead 
Signal-Station, a little round-house stuck away up on a high 
rock on the main-land, whence is signalled back to America, 
and forward to Queenstown and Liverpool, the arrivals of all 
transatlantic steamers. The steamer talked with her flags, 
and the signal-station answered by flags run up on a staff 
above the round-house, and thus they made communication. 
This place, before the days of the Atlantic cable, was a great 
point for the collection of news from incoming Atlantic steam- 
ers, and during the war of the Rebellion all Europe waited for 
the outlines of news sent ashore there to be telegraphed. But 
now its more pretentious glory has departed, replaced, how- 
ever, by the gratifying task of telling to awaiting friends all 
over the world the arrival of expected ships. Then we passed 
the " bold head of Kinsale," renowned in song and story, and 
rounding the more modest, yet broad, bold promontory, known 
as Roberts' Head, we saw far away in the base of the hills 
that spot dear to the Irishman's heart, the Cove of Cork. 
Guarding the entrance is Roche's Point, considered the end 
of the transatlantic voyage, and within is Queenstown, nest- 
ling by the hill-side, with the green fields and hedge-rows — for 



LIVERPOOL. 25 

the country has no fences — enclosing it on all but the water 
side. Out of the harbor comes one of those low, black, cu- 
rious-looking craft, belching forth black smoke from two fun- 
nels, so unlike what Americans are used to, which in these 
waters is called a steam-tender. The steamer did not enter 
the harbor, but remained outside, stopping the screw which 
had so steadily driven us day and night across the ocean ; and 
the tender, which had been summoned by telegraph from 
Browhead, came alongside, and the passengers, mails, and lug- 
gage intended for Queenstown were quickly transferred. The 
passengers parted company with many regrets, and then the 
tender, which bore at the masthead a flag with the Keystone 
out of compliment to the steamer, started for Queenstown, 
whilst we steamed on for Liverpool. Hearty were the cheers 
as we parted, and the prominent figure in the view was a typ- 
ical Irishman, dressed in the costume of a hundred years ago, 
knee-breeches, buckled shoes and all, who had come off to see 
the transfer, all unconscious of the admiration his quaint ap- 
pearance elicited from the many American gazers, who had 
rarely seen such a dress before. 

LIVERPOOL. 

The arrival at Liverpool, as at Queenstown, was also early 
in the morning, and it was before the town was out of bed 
that we bade good-by to the steamer and were set ashore to 
undergo the very slight customs examination required here, 
and seek our hotels. The Ohio we left anchored in the stream 
with twelve other transatlantic steamers, inward or outward 
bound, the thirteen huge crafts being stretched in a long line 
in the middle of the Mersey, in front of the city. The sight 
gave a good idea of the commerce of Liverpool, and the fact 
that they were anchored there was also an evidence of the 
rapid strides this commerce has recently made. The outgoing 
steamers had to come out of the docks, and the ingoing steam- 
ers could not enter them for the reason that this is the time of 
lowest neap-tides, when the flood does not rise high enough to 
float these large vessels through the dock entrances. Their car- 
goes, therefore, have to be lightered partially to and from them 
in the stream at great expense, until in a short period the time 
of higher flood-tides returns, when they can enter the docks. 
But even then there are only a portion of the docks having 
b 3 



26 A HOLIDAY TOUR. 

sufficient depth to float the large steamers now engaged in 
the transatlantic service. When the Liverpool docks were 
constructed, a ship of fourteen to sixteen feet draught was a 
large vessel, and no one dreamed of their some time drawing 
twenty-three feet. Hence the docks were constructed with 
the knowledge then possessed ; but the commerce of Liverpool 
has, in this respect, outgrown many of these docks. A large, 
new dock is, however, in process of construction lower down 
the Mersey, capable of floating the largest ship of the present 
day, and will soon be opened. These docks are the great sight 
of the city, stretching along the entire river front, crammed 
with the ships of all nations, carrying every commercial flag ; 
among the ensigns, however, the American flag being a some- 
what scarce article. Huge warehouses line the quays. Steam 
railways have tracks all along the inside edge, but locomotives 
do not draw the cars, this being done by horses. The railway, 
however, is as convenient for freight shipments as that along 
our Delaware front, though I did not notice any sidings leading 
out on the piers alongside the ships. The most extraordinary 
specimen of a street-car for passengers I also saw running on this 
line, with broad wheels fitting the rails, but capable of running 
off the track whenever the driver wished to do so to get around 
the slowly travelling freight-cars. Only these passenger cars, 
called, in the language of the town, " trams," were allowed to 
run on this dock-border railway. There was another road 
alongside for ordinary wagons. Along these docks merchan- 
dise of all sorts in vast amounts is stored and being moved, the 
greater part of it apparently being American products, such as 
provisions, grain, cheese, cotton, and lumber. The excellent 
street pavements and the large breed of horses in Liverpool 
enable teams to haul astonishing loads. There are plenty of 
regular street passenger railways throughout the city, the 
tracks being laid by the city corporation, and being of a pat- 
tern that enables carriage- wheels to cross them and to turn 
out and in without the wrenching process that tears the heart 
and shatters the wheels whenever the attempt is made in 
Philadelphia to turn out of the tracks. The rail is laid so 
that the top is even with the pavement, and along the centre 
of the rail a narrow trench is cut, just wide enough to admit 
the flanges of the car-wheels, but not wide enough to let any 
carriage-wheel enter. Carriages, therefore, pass over at all 



LIVERPOOL. 27 

angles without any apparent strain or even a jolt. Instead of 
the street railways controlling the city, as in Philadelphia, in 
England the cities control the street railways. The city cor- 
poration of Liverpool lays down all the lines according to a 
given pattern for the street-car companies, and charges them 
the expense. The cars are all two-storied, holding more on 
top than inside, and are without platforms. The question that 
has never yet been settled in Philadelphia, When is a street- 
car full ? is settled in Liverpool by the legend painted plainly 
on every such vehicle here, and announcing that it is full 
when it has eighteen inside and twenty on top. 

Liverpool contains many fine buildings, and a visit to the 
city and its suburbs will be well repaid. The usual fashion is 
to get out of Liverpool as soon as possible, the traveller regard- 
ing the necessity of remaining there upon landing from a 
steamer as an evil to be reduced to small compass. Besides 
being the best compact representation of trade which it is pos- 
sible anywhere to find, Liverpool contains other objects of in- 
terest to more aesthetic tastes. It has a very fine new art 
gallery, the gift of a wealthy townsman ; a most attractive 
public room in St. George's Hall, and any number of interest- 
ing old churches and other buildings. Like all English towns, 
its chimney-pots are its crowning glory. Every house has as 
many chimneys as is possible to put on it, and each chimney 
has from four to ten chimney-pots. Every new occupant of a 
house marks his tenancy by surmounting it with a new style 
of chimney-pot. Hence these strange pinnacles are of all sizes, 
styles, and colors. Whilst Liverpool docks and shipping cause 
wonder, Liverpool chimney-pots inspire amazement. Besides 
the large and noble horses seen in the streets, there are also 
many diminutive donkeys doing yeoman service as drawers of 
heavy burdens in unique carts. All the vehicles are in fact 
unlike ours ; and among the strangest are the hearses and 
funeral coaches, huge black lumbering vehicles, entirely en- 
closed in black, and surmounted each with half a dozen large 
black plumes with spreading wings. A funeral procession 
when the wind blows looks like a confused army of dancing 
black children, these winged plumes when agitated by the 
wind executing the strangest gyrations. The outskirts of the 
city show unmistakably that an Englishman's house is his 
castle, for the roads run along between high stone walls and 



28 A HOLIDAY TOUR. 

hedges, and whilst a peep here and there discloses many fine 
private houses, yet it is in every way evident that their owners 
desire not to be seen. The enclosures, however, are filled with 
grand old trees, and these cannot be hidden. Neither is it 
possible to conceal the constant evidence of thoroughness and 
completeness in building, road-making, etc., which constantly 
thrusts itself upon the eye. Liverpool has some very pretty, 
though not very large parks, with beautiful sheets of water 
interwining among their hills. There are also many quaint 
old inns in the outlying villages. It will interest my friends 
at Sixth and Chestnut Streets to know that one of these quaint 
old buildings in Gateacre is known as the Bear, and is kept by 
Joshua Ledger, whilst opposite is the Bull, and not very far off 
the Lamb, by Mr. Gudgeon. These seem, however, to get on 
very peaceably together. It will also be of interest to know 
that the Liverpool newspapers get out every day huge posters, 
which are set up on bill-boards about town, just like our 
theatrical posters, announcing their daily contents. Another 
quaint old inn is Child wall Abbey, once a religious house, but 
now an inn, as it has been, I am told, for three centuries, 
having opposite an old church and yard in which some of the 
graves date back to 1640, whilst on one tombstone I saw the 
names of seven persons inscribed, a family of five different 
generations, ranging from 1659 to 1772. Most of the stones 
are large flat slabs, laid over the graves, and the names of the 
dead are inscribed one after the other, like the entries in an 
account book, space being generally left on the stone for those 
who are to follow. This curious old inn and churchyard, five 
miles out from Liverpool, gets many visitors. Most of the 
private residences in the outskirts remind me of the style of 
architecture of St. George's House, and nearly all have fancy 
names, which are inscribed upon the gates in the walls enclosing 
the grounds around them. Thus we have The Hollies, The 
Towers, Ivy Cottage, Fullwood Park, Arequipa, and the like. 
This naming of private residences is almost universal in Eng- 
land, and adds to the charms of old homesteads, which have been 
for many years in the same family. The city, whilst showing 
great wealth, vast trade, and every attribute of industry, also 
presents, however, many sights indicative of poverty and vice ; 
but I do not think these are so prominent as they were some 
years ago, though there is much room for improvement. 



THE ANCIENT CITY OF CHESTER. 29 

LETTER VI. 

THE ANCIENT CITY OF CHESTER. 

Chester, July 24. 
It is quite possible that the readers of the Ledger in Ches- 
ter, Pennsylvania, would like to know something about the 
ancient and venerable town of Chester, in England, after 
which their city is named. This town is about an hour's ride 
from Liverpool, and stands upon the river made famous in the 
song of " The Miller of the Dee." The Dee in this portion 
is by no means as wide as the Delaware, though farther to- 
wards the sea it becomes a very wide stream. It is a crooked, 
narrow creek at this part, running through a pretty valley, 
bordered by gardens and hop-vines. It formerly ran along 
the city wall on the west side, but its course has since been 
changed to a position farther west, and the old river-bed 
seemed, as we gazed upon it from the city wall, to be almost 
a perfect wilderness of garden-sauce and hop-vines. Few 
Americans of the thousands who land at Liverpool ever visit 
Chester, and yet it is one of the oldest of cities, containing 
within the half-mile square surrounded by its walls a collec- 
tion of antiquities and curiosities such as can scarcely be seen 
elsewhere within as small a space. Some of its oddities are 
peculiar to the town. Its plan is a square bordered by walls, 
each of which contains a gate at its centre, facing the four 
points of the compass. These walls are very old, built, it is 
said, by the Romans, nearly a thousand years ago, and a con- 
siderable portion of the original Roman wall is still preserved. 
The tops of the walls, which are about five feet broad, are 
used as a promenade, so that the visitor can walk all around the 
town over the gates and past the frequent towers, covered out- 
works, and similar structures which were used for defence. 
Streets cross the town at right angles, connecting the four gates, 
and the sidewalks of these streets are in the second stories of the 
houses. At each street-crossing you mount up to the second 
story on stone steps, coming down again at the next street- 
crossing. This is the most original sort of sidewalk I have 

3* 



30 A HOLIDAY TOUR. 

yet seen, but it is somewhat tiresome mounting up and down 
the steps, though the plan is a capital one as a protection from 
rain, and it also enables house-owners to utilize both the 
ground and upper floors for shops, the lower story also having 
a narrow sidewalk of its own, bordering the cartway. 

The city is full of the quaintest-looking houses, with their 
gable-ends to the street, and the inhabitants are so proud of 
the flavor of antiquity which pervades everything that they 
build their new houses in a style which makes them look 
more venerable than the old. This adds to the oddity, and 
its deception leads to some amusing mistakes. Two or three 
houses that I saw which looked as if several centuries old, 
were built but seven years ago. The entire city is full of 
strange-looking buildings, including many venerable churches 
and one of the famous old castles of England. One quaint 
building of real antiquity is said to have twice shielded its 
residents from the plague, being the only house that escaped 
the infliction. This fact is recorded by an inscription carved 
on a board across the front, declaring it to have been the 
" Providence of God." Another strange-looking structure 
was called the " Pied Bull Inn." The finest modern building 
in the city is the new Town Hall, built nine years ago, to re- 
place the old one, which had been burnt. It contains several 
fine apartments, and is ornamented with bas-reliefs illustrative 
of the city's ancient history, and many portraits of distin- 
guished people. One of these is of William Offling, sheriff 
in 1517, and the inscription states that he had been twice 
married, and had twenty-six children ; that his son William 
Oftling had fifteen children ; and that the father and five of his 
sons gave one thousand pounds to the poor of the city. The 
ancient castle of Chester is a curious old building, surrounding 
three sides of a court-yard, whilst remains of the old ditch 
which surrounded it are preserved in front of the court-yard. 
This castle is used as a prison and barracks, and a considerable 
portion of the Ninety-sixth Regiment are stationed here, part 
of them living in tents in the court-yard. The regimental 
band, of forty musicians, gave a concert during the evening 
in front of the castle. Dressed in their scarlet uniforms, they, 
with an admiring crowd, stood out in a rain for two hours, 
regardless of the wetting they were getting, — playing without 
shelter upon string as well as brass instruments, having their 




CHESTER CATHEDRAL AND CITY WALL. 



THE ANCIENT CITY OF CHESTER. 31 

music upon stands before them, whilst their leader had an 
assistant in a red coat to turn over the pages for him, so that 
nothing interfered with his use of the baton. They were 
wonderfully proficient, and executed several difficult pieces 
with the greatest skill. Red coats were plentiful about the 
city all the time. 

The most famous attraction of Chester, however, is the Ca- 
thedral, one of the most ancient and largest church edifices in 
England. It is being gradually restored to its original condi- 
tion, the work being paid for by contributions from all parts 
of England, different persons and public bodies, religious and 
secular, providing for various parts. The greater part of the 
restoration is completed, but it is still going on in one of the 
transepts. It would be difficult to describe this wonderful old 
church, which has figures of wolves endeavoring to crawl over 
the eaves, and is filled with the richest of ancient carvings in oak 
and woods from the Holy Land, and ornamented by the finest 
mosaics. Days could be passed in examining it and the ad- 
joining cloisters, which as yet are but partially restored, and, 
in fact, in some parts are almost in a state of ruin, from the 
action of the elements upon the stone. The choir of the Ca- 
thedral is filled with gems, and has been entirely restored. In 
this choir in the afternoon I attended a special service, held in 
accordance with the judicial custom of England, which re- 
quires the high sheriff to take the judge to church whenever 
he comes to the city to hold an Assize Court. Chief-Justice 
Coleridge to-day opened the assize at the castle, and yesterday, 
as a proper preparation, he went to church. The high sheriff, 
dressed in the uniform of a British colonel, scarlet coat, cha- 
peau, sword, and spurs, took the judge in his state carriage from 
the hotel to the Cathedral, the coachman and two footmen stand- 
ing behind wearing elaborate drab liveries. Preceding the 
carriage were about twenty men bearing javelins, and two 
heralds, who blew frequent blasts on their trumpets, closing 
with a sonorous peal, which resounded through the vaulted 
ceilings of the church, when the dignitaries, leaving their car- 
riage, marched up the nave to the choir, preceded by the clergy 
and choristers in surplices. Vergers with their maces and 
officials with their staves walked before the sheriff and judge, 
whilst the latter had an attendant holding up his train. His 
appearance, in huge wig and scarlet gown trailing along after 



32 A HOLIDAY TOUR. 

him, so disguised his sex, that my little girl, after gazing in- 
tently for a long time to solve the problem, finally in despair 
asked me to please tell her whether it was a gentleman or lady. 
With them came the sheriff's chaplain in a black gown, and 
whilst " God Save the Queen" was pealing from the organ they 
took their seats, and the service began. The entire service 
was intoned and chanted, the music being suug by a very 
strong male choir. The lessens and prayers, creed and ser- 
mon, were each assigned to a different clergyman, the sheriff's 
chaplain preaching. Vergers conducted each clergyman sepa- 
rately to reading-desk or pulpit, and then back again to their 
seats, and the lessons were read from a Bible whose magnifi- 
cently-bound cover was inlaid with precious stones, whilst the 
markers were ornamented with pearls. This book was the gift 
of the Duke of Westminster and his family, the duke being 
one of the richest noblemen of England, and a sort of patroon 
in Chester, his magnificent home, Eaton Hall, being in the 
suburbs, and part of his vast estate in the city. It would be 
a very long story to tell of all the beauties and antiquities of 
this extraordinary town, which, having a wolf in its coat of 
arms, is, therefore, replete with wolves in its ornamentation. 
Visitors loving the ancient and the quaint, desirous of seeing 
how odd a city of English-speaking people can be, fond of old 
churches, castles, and Roman relics, will be well satisfied here. 
And American Chester, on the Delaware, may also be well 
satisfied with bearing the name of English Chester, on the 
Dee. 



LETTER VII. 

CHESTER AND EATON HALL. 

Holyhead, July 25. 
There is in Chester a venerable structure known as the 
Church of St. John Baptist, which is said to be as old as the 
Cathedral. Much of it is in ruins, with ivy and moss over- 
running the broken arches and half-destroyed stone-work. It 
is preserved with scrupulous care, railed in to protect it from 
vandalism, and is regarded as one of the greatest curiosities 



THE IRISH MAIL. 33 

of this very curious town. It adjoins Grosvenor Park, a very 
fine bit of beautifully-ornamented grounds, running down to 
the river Dee, and containing a statue of the late Marquis of 
Westminster, and two large cannons captured from the Rus- 
sians at Sebastopol. In this park I observed our well-known 
weed, the mullein, growing in the flower gardens, and evi- 
dently cultivated very carefully. I asked a native what it 
was, and was told it was a " hexotic, and very rare, indeed, 
sir." Among other curiosities of Chester were four battle- 
flags, set up in the nave of the Cathedral, two of which had 
been at Waterloo and two at Bunker Hill ; but the latter were 
British flags. The old inns of Chester are some of them very 
curious, and, like many of the other houses, are ancient build- 
ings, set gable-end to the street, and sometimes protruding 
upon it. Whether they violate street lines and boundaries or 
not, they are carefully preserved in their old-time condition. 
I saw among these inns the " Bear's Paw," the " Liver," and 
the " Old Nag's Head." Some of their signs were very odd. 
They announced that they kept newspapers, also " tea, coffee, 
and hot water;" and in one case "ham and eggs, good beds, 
and beer." The Grosvenor family, who are the chief people 
here, and of whom the Duke of Westminster is the head, ap- 
pear to be most liberal benefactors of the city. The home 
of the duke, at Eaton Hall, outside the town, is one of the 
famous great houses of England, surrounded by magnificent 
grounds, and itself a palace of large proportions. Its interior 
decorations are magnificent, among them being a small tessellated 
pavement, which cost eight thousand dollars. It contains 
many costly paintings. Its architecture is Gothic, and repair- 
ing and altering are continually going on, the duke being one of 
those unsatisfied men with full purses who are always tearing 
down and building up. It is probable before he dies he will get 
the house so built as to suit him ; but then, as we were told, 
his son, when he comes into possession of the title and estate, 
intends to tear it all down and build it over again, as it does 
not please him at all. " But it is all right, you know," said 
our informant ; " makes trade, you know " 

THE IRISH MAIL. 

The great mails between England and the United States, 
although carried upon steamers sailing to and from Liverpool, 

B* 



34 A HOLIDAY TOUR. 

do not pass through that city. They are taken from and put 
on board the steamers at Queenstown, and they are carried 
to and from London on one of the fastest trains that run in 
this country of fast railway travelling. This train is known 
as the Irish mail, and it passes through Dublin, Holyhead, and 
Chester, crossing the Irish Channel by express-boats, so that 
the time occupied in making the journey is several hours 
shorter than the steamer time between London and Queens- 
town, thus expediting the mails. The road over which this 
mail goes is one of the most costly in Great Britain. It runs 
from Chester west along the river Dee to the sea, and thence 
along the bases of the Welsh mountains westward through 
Wales, Anglesea, and Holy Isle to Holyhead, the must west- 
erly projecting point of Wales, jutting out into the sea and 
surmounted by a revolving light, which is one of the great 
landmarks of this coast. It passes through a rugged and pic- 
turesque country, but is so frequently interspersed with tun- 
nels to get through the mountains that it really seems as if 
one-fourth of the entire distance ran through the bowels of the 
earth. The entire line is a succession of rock-cuttings, gal- 
leries, retaining-walls, tunnels, and costly bridges, which must 
have cost millions of money to construct. On this railway is 
Stephenson's tubular bridge, erected across the Conway River 
in 18-18, and also the stupendous Britannia tubular bridge 
which crosses the Menai Strait, and is famous the world over. 
This bridge was erected by Stephenson, is one thousand five 
hundred and thirteen feet long, cost five million dollars, and 
stands one hundred and four feet above the water, being ele- 
vated to allow vessels to pass under. It was nearly five years 
building, and gets its name from the Britannia Bock, which 
stands in mid-channel, and supports the central pier. It con- 
sists of a pair of square wrought-iron tubes, through which 
the trains run as through a tunnel. Huge lions, carved out 
of the solid rock, stand on both sides of each entrance, elevated 
high above the track. This bridge, and, indeed, the entire 
line of railway, is a monument to the genius of Bobert Ste- 
phenson, whose engineering skill is held in fond memory 
throughout the entire country, and is marked by frequent 
statues and other memorials. The railway runs through rich 
pasture-lands in portions, in which graze many sheep and 
large herds of coal-black cows ; in fact, cows of any other 



HOLYHEAD. 35 

color seem to be scarce in this part of Wales. It runs past 
collieries, slate-mines, and any number of castles perched on 
the hills, relics of feudal times, and of the days when the 
Welsh had to keep a sharp lookout for marauders from the sea. 
Nearly every station is a watering-place, and bathers could be 
seen going into the surf from the cosy little bathing-machines, 
which are wheeled out into the water. The railway train 
shoots past the ponderous ruins of Conway Castle, and almost 
under the bastioned and crumbling walls of that ancient burgh. 
In St. Mary's church-yard of that city are many ancient tombs 
of the good people of a day far gone, and among them is the 
tomb of a Welshman, of a family who, evidently, served their 
country well, — Nicholas Hookes, of whom it is recorded that 
his father had forty-seven children, while Nicholas himself 
had twenty-seven children. The American tourist, however, 
in this land, should not venture far away from the railway 
carriage door, unless he does not fear getting lost. If he once 
got out of sight of the railway he would have difficulty in 
inquiring his way back again. In order to make a record of 
the route followed by the railway between Chester and Holy- 
head, through Wales, I will mention that it passes by stations 
known as Gwyrck Castle, Prestalyn, Rhyl, Colwyn, Tal-y-Caln, 
Bettws-y-coed, Pennmaenmawr, Llanfairfechan, Pontrhytholtt, 
Cwmyglo, Llanwmda, Tycroes, and a few other important places 
of the same sort. If the tourist cuts this out for reference he 
will stand some chance of not going astray on the Irish mail 
line through Wales. But if he should get lost in this neigh- 
borhood it is only necessary to inquire for Tanyrallt, Caen 
Gwyllym, or Caerheddynog, and all will be right. 

HOLYHEAD. 

Holyhead gets its chief importance from the fact that it is 
the point of transfer from train to boat on the route to Dublin. 
It evidently has a large trade, for no less than nine steamers 
of the through lines were in harbor when I sailed. It is an 
ancient city, and has various quaint buildings, whilst the pro- 
prietors of its inns spend their time chiefly in endeavoring to 
get the passengers to stop for refreshments, — a task which 
seems to be but poorly rewarded. Holyhead has a good har- 
bor, protected by a fine breakwater, and is used as a port of 
refuge for vessels in the Irish Channel. The railway is build- 



36 A HOLIDAY TOUR. 

ing a new station, which, when completed, will be a finer sta- 
tion than any we have in Philadelphia, and apparently as large 
as our largest. Like all the railway construction here, it is 
being built in most imposing style, of cut-stone and brick, 
and in connection there is being constructed a basin, so that 
the steamers can enter at all stages of the tide. Five dollars 
per week seemed to be the prevailing wages for labor on this 
work, the men working from 6 a.m. to 5.30 p.m., with a half- 
hour for breakfast and an hour for dinner. This seemed to be 
the standard rate for most male labor, so far as I could learn, 
whilst female domestic servants get from one dollar and twenty- 
five cents to one dollar and fifty cents per week. At Holyhead 
I was much impressed with the fact that the schools kept all 
summer. We saw a school dismiss at 5 p.m., and asking for 
a look at the boys' books, found they were learning to write, 
presenting very fair copy-books. They were all chubby-faced 
Welsh boys, in perfect health, and claiming a thorough knowl- 
edge of English. They understood our language when spoken 
to, but when they answered I found their English was not 
the kind that I had learned. The attempt to talk finally 
became so ludicrous that the boys could stand it no longer, 
but pointing to our straw hats, which seemed to amuse them 
very much, they gave us three cheers as we retreated discom- 
fited before this new Welsh invasion. We discovered enough, 
however, to be able to note that in that school at least there 
was no summer holiday. How the teachers must long to 
emigrate to free America, where education works somewhat 
differently ! 

Holyhead is among the high hills, which run down abruptly 
to the water, presenting an iron-bound coast, but a most 
picturesque one. As the steamer receded from the shores of 
Wales we saw the white light-houses ranging along the coast. 
The excellent lighting of all the British shores was again most 
fore" bly impressed upon us. 



BROWN STOUT AND THE PHCENIX. 37 

LETTER VIII. 

BROWN STOUT AND THE PHCENIX. 

Dublin, July 27. 

Dublin, as most Irishmen and a few Americans know, 
stands on the Liffey River, a beautiful stream, but full of 
shoals, and navigable only a few miles from its mouth. The 
entrance from the Irish Channel is beautiful, the renowned 
Hill of Howth guarding it on one hand, and Kingstown on 
the other. Very large amounts have been spent in keeping 
the channel open so as to maintain navigation up to the city, 
but only with indifferent success, for as soon as dredging ceases 
the channel fills. The entrance is, therefore, a perfect marvel 
of light-houses, buoys, dykes, etc., showing that only the utmost 
perseverance will accomplish the result desired. The buoys 
are huge beacons, some with balls, others with lights, and 
three or four dredging-machines were at work as we passed. 
This work maintains a large and valuable commerce. The 
quays are lined with vessels, and the trade of the city, judg- 
ing from the shipping in port, is of great importance. In 
fact, the largest ships are able to enter the port through the 
means employed to maintain the channel, and, as the second 
city in the British Islands, Dublin deserves an open road to 
the sea. 

You no sooner land at Dublin than you find unmistakable 
evidences of being in an Irish city. At the quay, when the 
baggage is brought to the place of delivery — a hundred or 
more trunks piled on a huge car — a score of Irishmen rush at 
the pile with a cheer, and carry it off with a struggle suggest- 
ing Donnybrook Fair. You select your man, show him your 
trunk, and without check or any other certificate he grabs it, 
upsetting whatever may be between. Mounting on a jaunt- 
ing-car, with your legs dangling over the sides, you travel to 
the hotel ; and then, when you put your hand in your pocket 
to pay the fare, it is naively suggested by the cabby, " Your 
worship, for the love of your children, plaze remember the 
driver." There's luck in odd numbers, said Rory Q'More; 

4 



38 A HOLIDAY TOUR. 

therefore, when the hotel guests sat down to dinner, the head- 
waiter carefully counted them, and finding the number even, 
he sent out for a representative of the house to come in and 
sit down, so as not to spoil the adage ; and not to forget old 
friends, this Irish hotel, remembering the ancient alliance, 
served dinner with a French bill of fare. 

Most tourists visit Dublin to see the buildings, and, like 
the rest, I thought this the necessary thing to do. But whilst 
outside of Dublin, the Cathedral, the Castle, Christ Church, 
the Bank, the Four Courts, Custom-House, and Trinity Col- 
lege were greatly praised, — yet inside the city, in the estima- 
tion of most of the denizens with whom I came in contact, 
these were cast in the shade by the greater glories of Brown 
Stout and the Phoenix. The buildings I have named are all 
of them fine structures, well worth going a long distance to 
see. The Castle, with its broad court-yards and its beautiful 
little chapel ; the huge Four Courts ; the spreading greens 
and spacious buildings containing the one thousand students 
of Trinity College ; the grand semi-circular front of the Bank 
of Ireland, with its imposing colonnade ; the beautiful orna- 
mentation of Christ Church, the Cathedral of the English 
Church ; the hundreds of magnificent private buildings ; the 
columns, statues, monuments, squares, and quays, — all make 
Dublin one of the most attractive cities of the Old World. 
The atmosphere gives them all the sombre appearance custom- 
ary in every town in the United Kingdom, and this flavor of 
antiquity adds to their attractions. It is probable that the 
Bank of Ireland is historically the most famous of all these 
buildings. Before the Union Act was passed, at the begin- 
ning of this century, which united Great Britain and Ireland 
under one parliamentary government, the Irish Parliament 
met in this building, with its two Houses of Peers and Com- 
mons. The last sitting of this Parliament was held October 
2, 1800, when the Irish Union bill was put through by 
methods which the Irish people will never forget, and which 
dwarf anything that is told of American legislative doings. It 
cost, to get a majority sufficient to pass the bill, according to 
the standard guide to the city, fifteen million dollars compen- 
sation to members, twenty-nine new peerages, twenty promo- 
tions in the peerage, and six million three hundred and sixty 
thousand dollars compensation to boroughs ; or, as the guide- 



BROWN STOUT AND THE PI1CENIX. 39 

book says, " rather to those who considered themselves, from 
their influence, owners of the same." It evidently paid in 
those days for a politician to " run his division" in Ireland. 
The Bank of Ireland now has its chief office in the spacious 
hall formerly occupied by the Irish House of Commons. St. 
Patrick's Cathedral is probably the largest church in Ireland, 
and is a beautiful structure, which was not long ago recon- 
structed at the expense of Sir Benjamin Lee Guinness, who 
paid about one million dollars for the work, an act of munifi- 
cence which has enhanced the Dublin veneration for brown 
stout, — A. Guinness, Son & Co. being the great brewers here, 
and being known in the remotest parts of the world, wherever 
their single or double stout may have penetrated. 

A visit to the brewery will very well inspire equal venera- 
tion in the stranger. It is a brewery covering forty acres, 
compactly occupied by brew-houses, malt-floors, stables, pack- 
ing- and cleansing-rooms, and, vast as the establishment is, it is 
evidently not large enough for its growing trade, as there is 
building another huge brewing-house of large dimensions 
with the necessary adjuncts. Everything necessary to the 
trade is constructed on this ground, even the water being 
pumped from its own well, over one hundred feet deep, and 
the latest appliances are in use for every part of the work. 
Machinery does almost everything, and yet fourteen hundred 
men are employed in the establishment. A railway siding 
enters the works ; a special narrow-gauge railway with five 
locomotives and one hundred cars connects different parts of 
the brewery and transports the casks to the quay on the Liffey 
River, in front, whence they are shipped on nine steamers to 
the lower portion of the river, where they are transferred to 
the shipping ; and one hundred and thirty horses are neces- 
sary to draw the wagons serving the town, and provide 
other transportation not covered by steam. The extensive 
stables are among the great curiosities of the place. Each 
horse has a wide stall with separate hay and feed boxes and 
drinking basin, supplied by a separate faucet. On the wall 
above the horse's name is inscribed on a plate. 

The brewing capacity of the works is about two hundred 
and fifty thousand gallons daily, and for storage, prior to ship- 
ment, one hundred and fifty vats, each holding nearly one 
hundred thousand gallons, are used, and yet there is not 



40 A HOLIDAY TOUR. 

enough room. Everything is done on the most enormous 
scale. There are acres covered with machines washing, steam- 
ing, and drying barrels, of which over four hundred and fifty 
thousand are in use, and long lines of pipes filling barrels. 
Everything is utilized. The waste that flows over the bung 
when the cask is filled is run into drains and pumped into 
vats. The yeast skimmed off is put under a press, drained of 
every drop of beer, and then, when in a condition resembling 
oil cake, is sold to distillers, who manage to extract spirits 
from it. So vast an establishment is well calculated to in- 
crease any one's veneration for brown stout. 

The Phoenix, which is also the admired of all Dublin, stands 
on a high column in the centre of Phoenix Park, surrounded 
by rural loveliness of every description. The beautiful green 
sward, the grand old trees, the brier and furze, the deer and 
cattle in the grand old park, with its long vistas of view disclos- 
ing the Wicklow Mountains, and its lovely slopes down to the 
Liffey, here a narrow but pretty stream, are well calculated to 
win admiration. This, some seven or eight miles in circum- 
ference, and covering over seventeen hundred acres, is said to 
be the largest park at any city in Britain. It reminds me in 
many respects of Fairmount Park, though it has nothing like 
the river views, for it is generally level, and its gardeners seem 
to endeavor to preserve nature in the shape of green grass, 
fine trees and shrubbery, rather than pile up artificial views 
and mounds and dig out artificial valleys at enormous cost. 
The Phoenix, indeed, well deserves to be the Irishman's 
delight, and his home is one of the loveliest on the face of 
the earth. In Dublin we were reminded of Philadelphia by 
finding the Baldwin Locomotive Works Catalogue and the 
Pennsylvania Railroad excursion route book in the hotels; 
both being well studied by the visitors. 

THE DUBLIN SUBURBS. 

The suburbs of Dublin, in every direction, are beautiful. 
There is every variety of hill and vale; of landscape and 
water; of highly-ornamented and cultivated grounds, with 
pretty hedges, and solid stone fences dividing the fields. Oc- 
casionally there is seen a wooden fence, but they are rare. 
Some of the houses are ornate, and there is every evidence of 
wealth and refinement in the villas of the gentry surrounding 



THE DUBLIN SUBURBS. 41 

the city. The country is also full of low-thatched cottages, 
generally one-story stone buildings, with steep roofs. The 
thatch is very thick, and fastened down with wires. Ruins 
are occasionally seen, which are turned into dwellings. In 
one case — a small church — families lived in the nave and 
transepts, and hung out their wash-clothes and kept their don- 
keys in the roofless choir. All the roads are good, but the 
wagons, as in all parts of the British Islands, reverse the 
American rule, and keep to the left instead of the right. 
This is the ancient British custom, allowing the vehicle ap- 
proaching to pass on the side on which the driver sits, and is 
more convenient than the American rule. But I am told it 
was reversed in the United States after the Revolution, our 
people desiring to do nothing in the same way as the mother- 
country did, and, therefore, determining to " keep to the right," 
whilst the Englishmen did the other thing. I do not vouch 
for this, but give the tradition as told to me. There are 
plenty of little donkeys on these roads dragging loads that 
would be sufficient for most horses. In many cases women 
guide them, and look very odd trudging along with their shil- 
lelahs and having confidential talks with the " baste," the ob- 
ject of which is to get him to go faster. Throughout all this 
region, as in England, the idea of privacy and exclusiveness 
prevails, as shown by the height of boundary walls and the 
wholesale manner in which broken glass is stuck endwise in 
mortar on the top to keep people from clambering over. The 
fashion in the United States of tramping at will over any 
man's land is here repressed with severity. Dublin, like most 
English cities, is a sufferer from the smoky atmosphere, which 
makes everything dingy, and the appearance of its many statues 
is marred by their very dirty faces. Dublin street naming and 
numbering might also be improved by adopting the Philadel- 
phia system. A street will have a new name every few squares, 
and each section of the street has its own set of numbers, 
which begin at one end, run along consecutively on one side 
to the other end, and then back again along the other side to 
the place of beginning, the last number on the street thus being 
exactly opposite the first. 

In the Hill of Howth, however, Dublin has its greatest ad- 
mired suburb. This is a hill six hundred feet high, jutting 
out into the sea and guarding the entrance to the river. It 

4* 



42 A HOLIDAY TOUR. 

commands a glorious view and slopes down abruptly to the 
water, the breakers beating against its base. Whilst the Lif- 
fey washes one foot of this hill, a deep bay, converted at large 
cost into a harbor of refuge, is at the other. This bay was 
filled with fishing- vessels with dark-brown sails. The base of 
this grand hill has an occasional beach, which is availed of as 
a bathing-place, and its slopes are very beautiful, covered with 
heather and furze, with variegated wild-flowers, scarlet, yel- 
low, and blue, adding to the charm. It is just such a place 
as would attract vast crowds if near an American city ; but, 
excepting on Sunday, but few seemed to visit it from Dublin. 
Near by is a strange rocky island, called Ireland's Eye, while 
the Devil's Bed was a curious rock near the shore. Howth, 
we were told at the inn, was the last place his Satanic Majesty 
stopped at in Ireland, and he slept the last night in this bed. 
He did not leave for good, however, our informant added, as 
he now comes back occasionally to look after all persons " who 
take lodgings in the town, but are too mane to ate anything 
at the howtel." We lunched there to avoid any difficulty. 



LETTER IX. • 

CROSSING BOTNE WATER. 

Belfast, July 29. 
Irish politics transferred to America usually culminate on 
July 12, when the anniversary comes of the famous Orange 
crossing of Boyne water. I never could understand why this 
conflict of two centuries ago should be transferred to American 
soil, and I understand it less now that I have also crossed 
Boyne water, and found it a very peaceful stream of small di- 
mensions, dyked in to preserve the channel, and in this way 
narrowed to but little more than the width of the canal 
through Smith's Island. Although it was only about two 
weeks after the anniversary of the crossing, I saw nothing 
of any indication of party conflict about it, and at Drogheda, 
on the river, I asked a native what he knew about the famous 
battle, and he replied that he had lived iu those parts these 



CROSSING BOYNE WATER. 43 

five-and-thirty years, and no " foiglit" had taken place there 
to his knowledge. Yet the result of the Battle of the Boyne 
was that Drogheda surrendered to the Orange party, and 
James II. was overthrown, though the Droghedans of the 
present day may care little about it. There is certainly 
ground for the belief that Irishmen going to America are 
foolish in carrying over that water the strifes which may dis- 
tract the old country they have abandoned. I crossed Boyne 
water in the opposite direction from the Orangemen. I came 
from Dublin, whilst James II., after his defeat, ran away to 
Dublin on his way to France, and, blaming the defeat which 
his own weakness and incapacity caused upon the Irish troops 
who stood manfully by him, he said they had run away very 
fast. To this an Irishwoman, Lady Tyrconnel, quickly re- 
torted, that His Majesty had certainly won the race, as he had 
got to Dublin first. The Boyne at Drogheda is a beautiful 
stream. The railway bridge is raised high above it, affording 
a charming view up and down the river, where the slopes of the 
old banks have been highly cultivated, and most of the river- 
bed outside the dykes has been reclaimed and converted 
into rich fields. The Boyne was as peaceful and its verdant 
banks as smiling as they could possibly be. Although the 
train was chiefly laden with red-coat soldiers there were no 
other signs of war. 

These red-coated soldiers and some in darker uniforms 
have been a leading feature in the scene ever since I landed 
in Her Majesty's dominions. Large numbers of them have 
been met everywhere, with their short-tailed scarlet coats, al- 
most dazzling the eyes, and their little apologies of visorless 
caps stuck on one side of the head, which the wind would blow 
away were they not fastened at the chin. The darker uni- 
forms are not so glaring. These soldiers are chiefly the re- 
serves, got under arms and put in camp during the conflict 
with Russia, but now being disbanded and sent home. They 
appear by hundreds everywhere, but in a few days will prob- 
ably all be sent home ; then only the regulars in the garrison 
towns will be seen. Crowds assemble at the railway stations 
to welcome the returning troops, and give the scene somewhat 
the appearance of that at the close of the Rebellion, when our 
regiments were returning home to go out of service. These 
British troops carry their clothing in white canvas bags, 



44 A HOLIDAY TOUR. 

usually tucked under the arm. They have only very small 
knapsacks. 

From Dublin, past Dunkalk, Balbriggan, Newry, Portadown, 
and Balmoral to Belfast is a beautiful ride. At first the line 
skirts along the Irish Sea, and gives splendid views over the 
water. Then it strikes inland into a rich agricultural coun- 
try, interspersed with bogs, and gives an idea of this part of 
the Irish life. Sometimes when the railway ran along a hill- 
side a beautiful view would be disclosed for miles across a 
country, showing the richness of the land and the thorough- 
ness of the agriculture. The view from Basbrook across the 
valley of Newry was particularly fine, reminding one of the 
Chester Valley, excepting that hedges and stone walls replaced 
the fences of that beautiful region, and low thatched cottages 
represented the thrifty farm-houses. Hundreds of women 
as well as men were working in the fields, for it was harvest- 
time. Before we left Philadelphia we had seen the hay and 
wheat-harvest there, but now, more than three weeks after- 
wards, came upon the Irish gathering their crops. And such 
crops ! especially the hay. The yield is enormous, larger than 
it has been for many years, and much larger per acre than 
around Philadelphia. The oats, barley, and potatoes are 
still growing, and promise also a good yield. The smallness 
of the fields particularly surprised me, for it was a rarity to 
find one of over four acres. The carefulness with which every 
inch of available ground was cultivated was also plainly shown. 
They even mowed the railway embankments, and gathered 
crops from every portion of the land not actually occupied 
by the tracks. The women worked as hard as the men, stop- 
ping a moment to look at the train and then going on again. 
The peat-bogs were being dug for turf, which was cut out 
into pieces resembling large bricks and piled up to dry. Much 
of this sort of work was going on, as a large portion of this 
country seemed boggy. Nearly every cultivated field was pro- 
vided with underground drainage, showing what an expensive 
business farming in this moist country is. As the railway — 
which, by the way, was in some portions so constructed as to 
give more exercise to the mile than any American railroad I 
have ever been on — reached Belfast, a change came over the 
scene. The large linen-factories, for which this section is 
famous, began to appear, and the ground was covered with 



LINEN AND THE ABSENTEE. 45 

myriads of pieces of linen laid out to bleach. It was laid upon 
delicate green sward, each field having a pond in the centre, 
where the water to be sprinkled upon the linen was obtained. 
Millions of yards were thus spread out, in long pieces, all 
around us, presenting an odd sight. And then we soon came 
to Belfast, the headquarters of the trade, nestling under the 
high limestone hills, which not only make the scene so pictur- 
esque, but also give the city protection from the severity of 
northern and western gales. 

LINEN AND THE ABSENTEE. 

The crowning summit of the range of hills protecting Bel- 
fast is a noble peak known as Cave Hill, from the slopes of 
which there is a glorious view over Belfast Lough, the city 
and the sea, whilst from the summit, on a clear day, Scotland 
is visible. On this hill-side is the castle of the Marquis of 
Donegal, about a mile from the highway, and in a park said 
to be four miles in circumference. The marquis owns the 
land on which the city is built, whilst linen has built it up. 
Yet, with an income from his leases estimated from one mil- 
lion to one million five hundred thousand dollars, the host of 
this princely estate has never made it his residence, and only 
built the castle five years ago, to which he makes probably 
one or two visits a year. " The Estate," as it is popularly 
called in the town, spreads everywhere, being managed by 
agents. Imagine a city, one-fourth the size of Philadelphia, 
paying rent to one man, giving him a princely income, and he 
spending his time and money elsewhere. Such a thing would 
be in conflict with every American idea, yet it seems to be the 
rule with Irish landlords, and is the absenteeism of which the 
Irish so justly complain. Belfast, however, barring the rents, 
is as well off without as with its absent patroon. It is the only 
Irish city that grows, and in many characteristics reminds one 
of an American city, although there is a continual reminder 
of " the Estate," by seeing on signboards announcements of 
" this building ground to be let forever ;" " this concern to be 
let in perpetuity ;" " apply to the Estate Agent." Belfast has 
all the bustle, vigor, and push of an American town, and its 
streets and buildings and the smart movements of its people 
are a continual suggestion of the American way of doing 
things. Excepting that it would be wider and generally better 



46 A HOLIDAY TOUR. 

paved, a section of a business street in Belfast is much sim- 
ilar to a section of a business street in Philadelphia. It is 
entirely unlike the other Irish cities in being just the opposite 
of them in the aspects of the people. Dublin appeared sleepy 
and languid, whilst Belfast rushed about with overflowing life. 
Yet Belfast keeps Sunday most rigorously ; the street-cars do 
not run, and everything is closed tight, the streets, excepting 
at church-time, being almost deserted. Whilst Belfast is up 
at daylight on week-days, it is very lazy on Sundays, and the 
morning church services do not begin until half-past eleven. 
The city is full of churches, — the Presbyterians being excep- 
tionally strong, — and many are very fine buildiugs. The 
Scotch-Irish race impresses its marked characteristics upon 
everything about the city. St. Patrick's Catholic Cathedral 
is also a beautiful building, and the front is adorned with a 
statue of Ireland's patron saint. The Queen's College, the 
Ulster Bank, the Presbyterian and Methodist Colleges, the 
Custom House, and several other structures, are also ornate 
buildings, though none of them are on the stupendous scale 
of similar buildings in the large cities of England. The 
Albert Memorial, on High Street, is a very fine clock tower. 
The Royal Botanic and Horticultural Society's gardens are a 
fine enclosure, containing most beautiful flower-beds, exceed- 
ing anything of the kind yet attempted in Philadelphia. St. 
George's Episcopal Church, a square structure similar to the 
olden style Philadelphia church, and much resembling it in 
the interior, required four clergymen to conduct the morning 
service, though it was done without the superfluous ceremony 
of Chester Cathedral. Rev. Dr. Mcllwain, the vicar, rather 
astonished me by not preaching from a written sermon, but 
making an extemporaneous address from the pulpit, illustrated 
by quotations from a small pocket Bible, to which he frequently 
referred. The address, which was a fine specimen of educated 
Irish eloquence, was a strong political argument, urging that 
if the houor of the kingdom was at stake it was the duty of 
the people to fight ; praising the Ministry for having main- 
tained the nation's rights and yet secured peace ; and de- 
claring it to be the height of folly at this late day for Irish- 
men to keep up the Orange feud and on Orange day go out 
for a " commemoration," which meant getting drunk and into 
a broil. This doctrine he thrust home with strong illustra 



LINEN AND THE ABSENTEE. 47 

tions from his small Bible, and he certainly made a good and 
sensible argument, declaring that in Ireland now all reputable 
people of whatever politics or religion abstained from Orange 
commemorations. 

The dwellings of Belfast all look comfortable, and nearly 
every house has its window garden, giving a very cheerful 
appearance. The suburbs contain many fine villas, and jaunt- 
ing-cars jog merrily along the well-paved roads, while the pop- 
ulace, of all degrees, ride in them, these being the chief 
method of conveyance. Many of the sidewalks are made of 
cobble-stones, — not the uncomfortable kind that we have at 
home, but small ones, about two inches in diameter, carefully 
laid, and presenting a surface almost as good to tread upon as 
brick. The street numbering is also upon the satisfactory plan 
of odd numbers on one side and even ones on the other. 
Whilst Belfast has a large trade in cattle and agricultural 
products, and has to keep open its road to the sea by continual 
dredging, and is also a large cotton-manufacturing place, yet 
the chief glory of Belfast is the linen trade. For this it is 
renowned in all parts of the world, and by this its wealth has 
been made. Eoormous mills surround it for miles, and its 
Exchange is known as "Linen Hall." Around this structure, 
which stands in a park and has a fine court-yard, cluster rows 
of warehouses, in which are stored the manufactured fabric, 
which, when bleaching, covers the fields for many miles around 
the city. One of the great mills, that of the Messrs. Mul- 
holland, is an enormous pile of buildings, the firm employing 
in one way or another twenty-five thousand persons, of whom 
over three thousand work in the Belfast mill. Here the whole 
process of ordinary flax manufacture can be seen, from the 
rough hackling to the final weaving of the linen cloth, which 
is sent out to the greens in the country to dry. On entering 
the engine-room of this great factory, I heard the familiar 
sound of the Corliss cut-off on the huge steam-engine which 
was driving the machinery. The engine was a new one, hav- 
ing been run but six months, and had been built expressly to 
have the Corliss attachments, which the Centennial Exhibition 
had brought to the attention of the house, and which the en- 
gineer warmly praised. Said he, though this new engine has 
seventy per cent, more power than our old one, this attachment 
enables us to drive it with less fuel : we save thirteen bushels 



48 A HOLIDAY TOUR. 

of coal a day. Only the cheaper linens are made by steam- 
driven machinery in the mills, of which there are a great 
number in and around Belfast. The finer linens and damasks 
are all made by hand, and, unless specially ordered, the finer 
qualities rarely reach America. The most famous Belfast 
factory for the character of its work is M. Andrews' royal 
manufactory of linens and damasks, at Ardoyne, in the sub- 
urbs of Belfast. Here, on hand-looms, are woven the finest 
fabrics for the royal families of Europe, goods being made to 
a fineness of one hundred and sixty threads to the inch. This 
factory, which is cheerfully shown, is one of the curiosities of 
this part of the world, the mysteries of weaving the beautiful 
patterns seen in table linen being of great interest. When I 
was there, three special patterns were going through the looms, 
decorated with special crests and coats of arms, — one for the 
Duke of Edinburgh; anoth'er for the Fishmongers' Company 
of London, one of the famous corporations of the metropolis; 
and the third, an American order, which was a great rarity, 
was a pretty and appropriate design for Battery M, of the First 
Regiment of United States Artillery. This linen traflrc ap- 
pears in all parts of Belfast as its prominent industry, and as 
a bustling business city, full of life, and, as it were, of Amer- 
ican ideas and systems of doing things, it has no rival in Ire- 
land. Belfast is well worth a visit from any American who 
desires to see a good representation of industry and thrift, and 
to get in what he sees a reminder of what he is used to at 
home. 



LETTER X. 

THE GIANT'S CAUSEWAY. 

Pout Rush, Ireland, July 30. 
To go to the great Irish national curiosity, the Giant's 
Causeway, you take the Northern Counties of Ireland Rail- 
way, between Belfast and Londonderry (or, as it is universally 
called here, 'Derry), to Port Rush, on the extreme northern 
coast. This railway passes through a rich agricultural region, 
cultivated down to the very edge almost of the Atlantic Ocean, 



fciii i 



V I'll 




THE GIANT'S CAUSEWAY 49 

and on the way stops at the well-known towns of Ballymena, 
Culleybackey, Templepatrick, Ballykelly, Moneymore, Lina- 
vady, Magilligan, Ballyiuagarrettknock, Cookstown, Carrick- 
fergus Junction, Ballymoney, and several other places of like 
repute. These are all pleasant villages, and some quite large 
towns, with great linen-factories raising up their tall chimneys. 
They have first-rate railway stations, and exhibit a general ap- 
pearance of thrift, beggars being few, and the industry of the 
Scotch-Irish race strongly developed. On all sides there are 
green fields, divided by hedgerows or walls, cultivated to the 
highest degree, peat bogs being industriously dug for the turf, 
which is stacked in piles to dry ; neat thatched cottages with 
their stacks of peat fuel ; flax ponds, around which the manu- 
factured fabric is laid out to bleach ; and among all these is 
seen the gathering of the hay and flax harvests, both men and 
women working in the fields, making hay with their hands, 
without rake or fork ; or pulling up the flax and leaving it in 
long rows behind them, getting for their labor, as I was told, 
from thirty-five to fifty cents per day, according to whether the 
landlord provided their food. In one flax-field of about fifteen 
acres I counted forty of these working men and women gradu- 
ally crossing it in a long row, pulling flax, which is dragged by 
hand out of the ground, roots and all. Around nearly every 
cottage are little flower-beds, the prominent growing plant 
being the fuchsia, which grows to large size in the open air 
and flowers beautifully. Nearly every window also has its 
garden. Throughout all this north end of Ireland, so far as I 
could judge, there was but little outward evidence of poverty, 
and the humblest thatched cottages I saw seemed cleanly and 
well cared for. This region has good landlords, I was told, 
who looked after the popular interests, and were well thought 
of. Across, on the west side of Lough Foyle, however, — the 
lough that leads up to 'Derry, — there was a different story. 
There were the estates of the late Lord Leitrim, and the people 
had no good word to say of him. 

Whilst the railway approach to the Causeway is thus pleasant, 
the continuation of the journey from Port Rush eastward along 
the coast is decidedly primitive. Here is one of the wonders 
of the world, of equal fame with Niagara, yet no railway goes 
within eight miles of it, though, so far as engineering is con- 
cerned, its construction would be easy. These eight Irish miles 
c 5 



50 A HOLIDAY TOUR. 

have to be travelled in a jaunting-car, and the journey fully 
maintains the elastic reputation of the Irish mile, for it grows 
to about fifteen before the Causeway is reached, and requires 
nearly an hour and a half of fast trotting to accomplish, over a 
road which is a very good one. When St. Patrick measured 
the Irish mile he had with him a mad dog, whom he held with 
a woollen string. At the end of the mile the dog gave a leap, 
stretching the string, and this accounts for the elastic character 
of the Irish mile. It has only been within a brief period that 
there has been a well-kept hotel at the Causeway ; and in fact 
this great wonder is shown in the most un-American style pos- 
sible. It was the height of the season, and one of the finest 
days of the summer, yet not over a dozen visitors were at the 
place. If this great curiosity were as near Philadelphia as it 
is to Belfast, we would be running cheap excursion trains to it 
over broad and narrow gauge railroads, emptying out thou- 
sands of passengers to cut their initials in very bad letters upon 
the basalt rocks. It would be overrun with booths selling 
questionable drinks, and basket merchants vending peanuts. 
Yet not a booth was to be seen anywhere near the Causeway, 
and I do not believe there is one peanut in all Ireland. That 
great American institution is yet to be introduced into Her 
Majesty's dominions. 

To the credit of the Earl of Antrim, the lord of the manor, 
it should be said that, without getting a penny of revenue from 
this noted possession of his, he has thrown it entirely open to 
the public, free of any fee or reward, and is in every way pro- 
tecting it from vandalism. The Causeway is carefully pre- 
served from relic-hunters, and I did not see any one's name 
carved or written upon any portion of it ; or any one's adver- 
tisement of soap or bitters or pop-corn adorning the rocks. 
The freedom of access is in marked contrast to the system at 
Niagara, where it is impossible to get a near view of the 
Falls without paying a tax to the proprietor of some garden 
or bridge, who purposely obstructs the view to gather the toll. 
Beggars and print and specimen venders are, however, the 
annoyance at the Causeway, and to an extent unknown in 
America. They dog the footsteps of visitors, and interfere 
seriously with the enjoyment of the visit. When the Em- 
peror of Brazil was here, in 1876, a force of constabulary had 
to accompany him to keep off the horde who would quickly 



THE GIANTS CA USE WAY. 51 

have despoiled him of all his loose change. A vigorous ap- 
plication of Anglo-Saxon is the best protection, for the kind 
of English an angry American talks is an unwonted tongue 
to these harpies, and it strikes them with awe. 

Fin McCool was the Irish giant who made this region fa- 
mous. He constructed this Causeway as a road to Scotland, 
landing at Staffa, for the purpose of inviting over a Caledo- 
nian giant for a fight. The Scot came, and, as the story is 
told in Ireland, got whipped. Perhaps if the story was told iu 
Scotland the result might be different. Be that as it may, 
however, Fin McCool, with true Hibernian magnanimity, be- 
came the friend of the Scot, induced him to marry and settle 
in Ireland, " which everybody knows is the best country in 
the world;" and then the Causeway being no longer wanted 
by the giants, it was sunk under the sea. only leaving a por- 
tion visible here, a little at Rathlin Island, ten miles off the 
coast, and the portals of the entrance at Fingal's Cave, in 
Staffa. Thus originated the Causeway, according to tradition. 
Geologists have some idea that it had a different formation, 
but as no two of them can agree on a theory about it, possibly 
we will be as well off if we adhere to the tradition. All the 
way from Port Rush to the Causeway are seen relics of the 
great Irish giant. The entire coast is a wonderful formation : 
a high, bold, rocky coast, of limestone and basalt, towering 
sometimes as high as four hundred feet above the water. 
These rocks are hewn and wrought by the constant action of 
the waves into caves, archways with natural bridges, enormous 
cauldrons, curious profiles, honeycombs, and every sort of fan- 
tastic shape. Here we have Fin's Punch-Bowl, wherein the 
sea,- when a northern gale blows, boils around furiously ; his 
face, a rock one hundred feet high, which is a colossal fore- 
head, nose, mouth, and chin of almost perfect form, and a 
much larger formation than the profile on the White Moun- 
tains in New England ; his grandmother, a perfect representa- 
tive of an old woman stooping over and bent with age, this 
rock, weighing seven tons, being declared to be a petrifaction 
of his grandmother, thus punished for having three husbands ; 
his loom, whereon he formerly knit his garters and stockings, 
and his wash-tub at the mouth of a cave, always filled with 
soapsuds, wherein he washes his shirt in the mornings. On 
the Causeway itself we have the giant's crown ; his pulpit, 



52 A HOLIDAY TOUR. 

from which his sermons when he preaches can be heard all 
the way to Scotland ; his church, with its steeple ; his organ, 
which every seventh year on Christmas morning plays while 
all the rocks dance, the tunes being " St. Patrick's Day in the 
Morning" and " Boyne Water," both being adopted so as to 
secure strict impartiality ; his chimneys, which rise up like so 
many chimney-pots above the Causeway, and the Scotch cap 
of his foe, which was dropped in the water when the Scot 
was vanquished. These things are no mere fanciful represen- 
tations, but are almost as perfect resemblances of the things 
named as if the sculptor had gone there and carved them. 
The organ has all its pipes. The Scotch cap has the knot 
tied behind. The church has nave, transept, and peaked 
roof. The crown is massive, but true to its name. The 
chimne}^s possess everything but the smoke. There is also a 
rock called the Lion's Paw, an extraordinary formation, jutting 
out into the sea, and looking just as if some colossal lion had 
gone there and laid down his foot upon a huge pedestal. On 
this coast there is also a remarkable ruin, which is a curiosity 
of human work, as strange as the natural ones referred to. 
This is Dunluce Castle, also belonging to the Earl of Antrim. 
It stands upon an isolated rock rising precipitously over one 
hundred feet above the sea, standing close to the rocks on 
shore, but cut off from them. On this rock, and entirely 
covering it, are the roofless ruins of the old castle, hoary with 
age, with vines overrunning them, and dating back no one 
knows how far. The dark-brown ruins are very picturesque, 
and are accessible only by a narrow bridge, raised high above 
the water, and not three feet wide. It is the subject of end- 
less tradition and romance, and is underlaid by a cave only 
accessible from the sea at low water. This entire coast is 
honeycombed and washed by the sea into extraordinarily fan- 
tastic shapes. Against it beat the waves of the broad At- 
lantic, no land being interposed between this coast and the 
hyperborean regions. 

Of the Giant's Causeway itself it is difficult to give an in- 
telligible description. It is certainly unlike anything I have 
heretofore seen, and also unlike the idea I had formed of it 
from reading descriptions. If descriptions could not give me 
the proper idea, I must hesitate to communicate it by any words 
of mine. Two grand amphitheatres facing the north are hewn 



THE GIANT'S CAUSEWAY. 53 

in the rocks on the coast, their background rising to a height 
of four hundred and twenty feet above the water. On the 
upper faces of those amphitheatres are columnar rocks, not 
unlike the palisades of the Hudson, but more perfectly formed. 
On the easternmost verge a high, bold headland extends into 
the sea. Between the two another headland not so bold, but 
broken down at the end, also extends into the sea. On the 
side of this is the organ, and from the top rise the chimneys. 
In front is the Lover's Rock, a leap from which, four hundred 
feet, into the sea, is a sure cure for love. These two amphi- 
theatres are the setting enclosing the Causeway. It stretches 
out from the western amphitheatre for one thousand feet into 
the sea. It is low down, — so low that during gales the water 
entirely covers it, — and it gradually slopes down until lost to 
view under the water. Suppose that some one had driven 
about four thousand piles into the water, as closely together as 
they could be placed, with their tops very nearly levelled off, 
though somewhat irregular, and an idea can be got of the 
Causeway. Suppose, further, that all these piles were stone 
columns, accurately cut and polished into prisms varying from 
three to nine sides, no two of them shaped exactly alike, yet 
all of them so accurately fitted together that water can scarcely 
penetrate the seams, and there will be an idea of the forma- 
tion. Then take every column and break it into pieces from one 
to two feet long, but leave them all standing, and cut off the 
tops so that some will be a foot higher than others, and there 
will be an idea of the surface. These columns, whilst so ac- 
curately fitted, can yet be taken apart without trouble, and, in 
fact, the Causeway was in danger, some time ago, of being car- 
ried away bodily, until the lord of the manor stopped it. No 
stonemason could do better work than this wonderful forma- 
tion shows, and it looks as if set up block by block in the am- 
phitheatre, and then gradually sunk into the sea. The visitor 
can tramp all over the Causeway, excepting where the water 
covers it, and in doing this will walk over the heads of some 
four thousand columns. In the midst of it, he can take a 
drink from a spring which has some wonderful quality which 
I have forgotten, the water of which is said to weigh one 
ounce less per pint than any other water in Ireland. He Cc«n 
also sit in the " wishing chair" and have his desires fulfilled 
in a twelvemonth. Cows and sheep were grazing on the bor- 

5* 



54 A HOLIDAY TOUR. 

ders of the Causeway where the grass grows among the rocks, 
and I learnt the important fact that white sheep eat more in 
Ireland than black ones, because there are more of them. 

Two extraordinary caves are shown adjoining the Causeway, 
one of which penetrates over three hundred feet and the other 
over six hundred feet ; both being very high, one having an 
ornate Gothic arch at the entrance, and into both the boat 
into which you get to visit them is rowed for some distance, a 
pistol being fired off and noises made to develop the echoes, 
whilst the coloring on the rocks under water is magnificent. 
It is no easy task for the four stout oarsmen who pull the boat 
to breast the waves of the Atlantic, and force her around the 
rough rocks to get at the entrances of these caves. At the 
same time it is impossible to get a view of the surroundings 
of the Causeway, which are very grand, without going in the 
boat, whilst a guide is also necessary. This great natural cu- 
riosity ought to be made more accessible, but it is still possible 
by an early start to see it all and get back to Belfast in a day ; 
and at a cost, including all fees and swindles, — for there are 
some practised upon the visitor, — of not over five dollars for 
each person, if there is a party. The railway fare is two dol- 
lars and twenty-five cents, the jaunting-car fare sixty-two cents, 
the boat two dollars, and the guide one dollar and twenty-five 
cents, all reasonable, and the fees for boat and guide being the 
same for one person or a half-dozen. But the jaunting-car 
driver wants sixpeuce and each boatman sixpence extra for 
himself, besides forcing you to buy specimens at fifty cents a 
box, and raising a commotion if you don't buy a box from each 
boatman. These are swindles, and ought to be suppressed, 
especially as good specimens can be got on shore for half the 
money, but the aggregate swindle does not amount to any 
great sum, and is, probably, much less than it would be if a 
genuine Yankee were imported to "run" the Causeway. As 
it is impossible to see such an extraordinary formation any- 
where else for less, or indeed for any money, we may possibly 
be willing, in the interests of sight-seeing, to permit these de- 
scendants of Fin McCool to swindle us to the modest extent 
which seems to content them. 



THE TWO CLYDES. 55 

LETTER XI. 

THE TWO CLYDES. 

Glasgow, August 1. 

It is a very common thing in Philadelphia to speak of the 
Delaware River as the Clyde of America, but, excepting that 
iron ships are built on both and both run down to the sea, 
there is no resemblance between them. Glasgow would be a 
proud city and would have saved millions of money had she 
such a noble highway as the Delaware leading to her quays. 
She would make very much more of her facilities in such a 
case than Philadelphia does. But, instead of a river of the 
width of the Delaware, I found the Clyde a stream much 
smaller than the Schuylkill, and corresponding about to the 
Rancocas Creek. It would be perfectly feasible to make the 
Rancocas as famous and as deep as the Clyde (it is now as 
wide) if it had Glasgow located upon it, with Scotch energy 
to do the work. There is no better evidence of the ability 
of human hands to make a seaport where nature did not 
intend one to exist than is to be seen at Glasgow. In former 
times, Greenock was the port of Glasgow. Greenock stands 
at the point where the Clyde River debouches into the Firth 
of Clyde, and above it in those days the river was an insigni- 
ficant stream, with barely nine feet depth in the twenty-two 
miles of water up to Glasgow. But the canny Scots deter- 
mined to have a port, and their achievements in deepening, 
embanking, and preserving the river, and making their city 
one of the great ports of the world, have brought them 
renown. 

I came across the Irish Sea in a Cunard steamer from 
Belfast, Ireland, one of a fleet of no less than seven large 
steamers, that leave Belfast every evening for British and 
Scotch ports, laden with cattle and food supplies, for which 
Ireland is drawn upon so largely to feed her neighbors, and 
carrying hundreds of passengers. The commerce between 
these islands is very great, and requires a large amount of 
tonnage. On our steamer were no less than a hundred beef 



56 A HOLIDAY TOUR. 

cattle. On another were large droves of sheep. Ireland is 
the grazing farm for Britain. The journey is performed dur- 
ing the night, and the Firth of Clyde is entered about three 
o'clock next morning, it being already almost sunrise. The 
Firth has high bold shores, beautiful in the extreme, but par- 
tially obscured by fog, which overhung the water all the way 
to Glasgow. The Firth narrows into the river as Greenock is 
approached, and this partially decayed port, overshadowed by 
her greater neighbor's second growth, is, nevertheless, seen 
to have a large commerce, her docks being full of shipping. 
At this point begins the evidence of the hard work that has 
made the Clyde what it is. Constant dredging is necessary 
to maintain the channel, and I saw no less than six huge 
steam-dredges, of a pattern very different and much more 
effective than those we are accustomed to, at work in the 
river between Greenock and Glasgow, and learnt that more 
were employed, besides others building. Where rocks have 
been encountered in opening the channel they have been 
blasted out, and this has been extensively done, adding to the 
cost of the work. The nine feet depth of water has been 
deepened sufficiently to float the largest ships, although these 
vessels are too long to turn round in the channel excepting at 
certain points, and then at high water. The crooked parts 
of the river have been straightened, and this work is stiil 
going on. For a few miles above Greenock the channel is 
marked by a series of buoys, towers, and other beacons, some- 
times in rows only about two hundred feet apart. Above 
this the river is embanked for miles, with masonry walls, 
faced with broken stone to resist the action of the wash from 
passing vessels. There are range lights and towers, numerous 
tidal gauges, and, in fact, the channel is fenced in with buoys 
and banked in with walls so effectually that it is impossible to 
go astray. The river, from a short distance above Greenock 
to Glasgow, is not more than three hundred and fifty feet 
wide, and in some places narrows to two hundred and fifty feet. 
At Glasgow itself it widens to almost the dimensions of the 
Schuylkill to permit of vessels lying at the quays, for there is 
no room for piers, and the steamers have to be strung along 
lengthwise. This famous river is in effect a wide canal, and 
navigation is conducted somewhat upon the principles gov- 
erning a railroad. Signboards are posted at various places 



THE TWO CLYDES. 57 

ordering " Dead Slow," and officers are stationed at intervals 
to see that pilots obey the order. There is no such thing as 
steaming at full speed along the Clyde. It is like a crowded 
street, a stream of vessels passing up and down, their steam- 
whistles blowing frequent signals and their crews standing 
often with fenders to prevent collisions. Navigation has to be 
slow and very cautious. Such a marked and governed river 
I never saw before. It is in reality a canal constructed for 
ship navigation, and used apparently to the utmost extent of 
which it is capable. There is not in any other part of the 
world such extensive buoying and marking, and at night the 
signals line each shore like rows of lamps along a street. 

But to come back to the " Clyde of America" in its point 
of resemblance to the Clyde of Scotland, — in ship-building, — 
I was told that trade was very poor, and that every one was 
complaining. The ship-yards are strung along both banks for 
probably twelve miles below Glasgow. Some of them have 
huge travelling-derricks erected over the vessels building, so 
as to facilitate heavy hoisting. It appeared to me that not 
much more than one-third of the ship-building capacity of the 
yards along the river was being made use of, judging from the 
unoccupied launching- ways, yet this one-third, if on the Clyde 
of America, would make the hearts of our iron ship-builders 
leap for joy. I counted forty-eight iron steamers, most of them 
of the largest size, in course of construction, whilst a half-dozen 
more were lying at quays receiving engines. When we launch 
an iron ship on the Delaware it can shoot out into the river 
without fear, but this cannot be done on the Clyde. There is 
no ship set up at right angles to the river. They are all built 
at an angle almost parallel with the shore, so that when launched 
they will float up or down stream, and thus get room to clear 
the ways. Most of these vessels looked longer than the river 
is wide. It was not an unusual thing to count ten different 
launching-ways in one yard, but the largest number of vessels 
constructing in any one yard was five. At the same time I 
counted over one hundred steamers in the river, besides many 
sailing-vessels. The great commerce of this stream is com- 
pressed into smaller compass than that of Liverpool, but, 
although eclipsed by that port, it is large enough to yield Her 
Majesty's government twenty million dollars annual customs 
duties. It has given Glasgow great growth, that city now 
c* 



58 A HOLIDAY TOUR. 

having a half-million population. But I do not think that a 
broad and noble river like the Delaware ought to be dwarfed 
by being named after this narrow, cramped, and artificially 
constructed creek, which is navigable barely twenty-five miles, 
and would close up were not dredge-boats constantly at work. 
The Mississippi, on the same priueiple, might as well be called 
the Clyde of the West. 

GLASGOW. 

The great Cathedral, seven hundred years old, is the chief 
curiosity of Glasgow, and behind it rises the Necropolis, an 
abrupt hill elevated to the top of the Cathedral roof, which 
is the chief Glasgow cemetery. This hill forms a beautiful 
background to the brown walls of the Cathedral, the steep 
hill-sides being terraced with tombs, covered with monuments 
to the dead, and surmounted on the peak with an elaborate 
memorial to John Knox. The Cathedral has been thoroughly 
restored, and one of its most pleasant features is the memorial 
windows presented by people far and wide to complete the res- 
toration. Within it on the walls are ornate tablets to soldiers 
who have fallen in England's wars, and deep down in the crypt, 
which is the most spacious in the kingdom, is the shrine of 
St. Mungo, Glasgow's patron saint, from whose effigy zealous 
Glasgow reformers long ago cut off the head, leaving the head- 
less trunk to be wondered at by surprised visitors. Several 
curious things appeared in this interesting city. On the public 
offices, my American ideas of the laborious character of offi- 
cial work were somewhat shocked by finding signboards an- 
nouncing that the offices are kept open from 9 a.m. to 5 P.M. 
When vacant lots are to be disposed of the announcement 
reads, " To sell or to feu." All the chief streets are provided 
with horse railways or " trams," as they are called, laid with 
the peculiar rail I have heretofore described, which prevents 
jarring or any interference with other traffic ; and all the tram- 
cars are two-storied structures, whilst a considerable portion of 
them have roofs over the upper story. These huge structures 
look very curious on the streets. Glasgow is thus far the 
champion city for chimney-pots, in a kingdom which has 
devoted probably as much ingenuity to those extraordinary 
productions as it has to anything else. Glasgow has more 
chimney-pots per house, more queer ones, and more strange con- 



GLASGOW. 59 

trivances to prevent wind blowing them down, than any other 
town I have yet seen. From twelve to seventeen pots on one 
chimney are frequent, and in one case I counted twenty of 
them on a single chimney of an ordinary-sized house. What 
possible use there could be for so many I could not conceive. 
It was not infrequent to see pipes run from one chimney to 
another, as if a man were entirely disgusted with his owi& 
achievements in this line, and wanted to try his neighbor's. 
What a glorious business the terra-cotta and smoke-pipe man- 
ufacturers' must be in Her Majesty's dominions ! Glasgow 
has two beautiful parks, both on high ground and commanding 
views of the city. Kelvingrove Park is a small one, but 
beautifully situated on the Kelvin River, which runs along a 
deep valley through it. In this park is the City Industrial 
Museum, and adjoining it the University of Glasgow, in a 
commanding position overlooking the city, the latter being one 
of the finest buildings in Scotland. Rows of large dwellings 
also face the park, and are built on terraces behind it in a 
most eligible situation. The Museum contains a fine exhibi- 
tion, chiefly of industrial arts, with a large portion devoted 
to steam-engine and ship-building. Models are shown of 
Watt's earliest steamers. In this museum I found, in a prom- 
inent position, the fine exhibition of the agricultural products 
of Kansas, which was at the Centennial. The Queen's Park, 
on the other side of the city, whilst not so ornate as Kelvin- 
grove, occupies a fine position, and from it can be seen the 
battle-ground of Langside, where Mary, Queen of Scots, was de- 
feated, and the tree marking the spot where she stood to wit- 
ness the battle's disastrous result. Glasgow honors her great 
men. St. George's Square, in the centre of the city, on which 
the chief hotels front, contains a monument to Sir Walter 
Scott, whilst around it are statues of Sir John Moore, Robert 
Peel, James Watt, Lord Clyde, and other famous natives of 
the city. It is a good Scotch representative town, showing 
prodigious energy, vast and ramified trade, but is unfortu- 
nately overhung by the fog and begrimed by the smoke that 
obscure so many British cities, but at the same time give all 
their buildings the venerable appearance that increases their 
reputation. 



60 A HOLIDAY TOUR. 

LETTER XII. 

THIRTY-SIX HOURS IN THE HIGHLANDS. 

Edinburgh, August 3. 
To get a glimpse of the Scottish Highlands there are various 
routes from Glasgow, all leading down the Clyde by steamer, 
and after leaving that river taking various lines by water or 
land. The excursion business is conducted here as extensively 
as with us at home, and requires many steamers, most of them 
being extremely comfortable boats, but built very narrow, as 
all Clyde steamers are, the necessities of the navigation of that 
contracted, tortuous river forbidding the use of wider craft. 
In passing down the Clyde a good idea is given of the diffi- 
culties of its navigation and the risks encountered. The 
moving steamers and dredge-boats keep the mud constantly 
stirred up, so that there is a very disagreeable smell from the 
water. Part way down-stream we found the huge Anchor 
Line steamer Ethiopia run ashore, and lying partly careened 
over in the mud. She had come down stern foremost several 
miles from Glasgow to get a wide enough place to turn around 
preparatory to sailing for New York, and was waiting for high 
water, though in a position which evidently must be a severe 
test of her staunchness. Further on a fine excursion steamer 
was seen seriously injured by collision with another steamer, 
and our boat had to take her passengers off. They were 
in quite a fright, and were glad enough to get transferred. 
All hands came off, including the Scotch lassie who dealt in 
cakes and candy, and who passed her stock over the rail with 
celerity. Groundings and collisions seem of constant occur- 
rence in this narrow, crowded river. On the way down Dum- 
barton Castle is passed, one of the famous Scottish strongholds, 
and opposite there were gangs of men fixing the bank, repair- 
ing damage from some vessel running ashore and displacing 
the stones protecting the bank. This sort of work has to be 
done all the time, and the promptness of repair keeps every- 
thing in order. I doubt whether this river in some places can 
be over two hundred feet wide. Dumbarton Castle stands on 



THIRTV-SJX HOURS IN THE HIGHLANDS. 61 

a rock six hundred feet high, with precipitous sides. A flag- 
staff rising among the trees on top is all that can be seen of 
the castle from the river. Farther down, on a high, isolated 
rock, almost split in two, and looking as if it had been thrown 
down on the sand bordering the river, is Cardross Castle, the 
ruins of which are plainly visible. This was the last home 
of Robert Bruce, who died there in 1329. 

Greenock, as we passed it, was gayly dressed in colors — the 
shipping, the buildings, and the quays. All the flags they 
had in the town and on the shipping were brought out in 
honor of a great event. Greenock has been stirred up in her 
rivalry with Glasgow, and, in order to hold fast to her com- 
merce, has determined to construct a new dock at a cost of 
two million dollars. This dock is to have twenty-six feet 
depth of water, is to be two thousand feet long, and to be pro- 
vided with jetties giving no less than a mile and one-third in 
length of quays. The first sod of the new work was to be 
turned, and the town was full of excitement preparing for the 
event, the provost being provided with a silver-mounted spade 
and wheelbarrow with which to perform the ceremony. The 
new work is to be called the James Watt Dock. 

The excursion business is conducted very extensively among 
the beautiful islands adjoining the mouth of the Firth of 
Clyde and the region known as the Kyles of Bute. Steamers 
laden with passengers can be seen flitting about in all directions. 
The one I was on carried at least one thousand passengers, who 
were getting on and off at the many pretty places at which it 
stopped. The Scotch predominated, — some in kilts and some 
in breeks, and wearing strange hats and clothes such as are 
rarely seen in America. There were plenty of children and 
plenty of luggage. In fact, although the boat was large, it 
was at times uncomfortably crowded. It showed, however, 
that the Scotch are as great travellers as some of the rest of 
mankind, and that they love the exceedingly beautiful scenery 
of their own land well enough to go and look at it. The 
steamer wound in and out among the lovely islands, which 
gave to the Duke of Bothesay the title of Lord of the Isles, 
and about which Scott has written, and stopped at many pretty 
places. Here are portions of the domains of the Marquis of 
Bute and the Duke of Argyle, and one of the homes of the 
Marquis of Lome, the heir to the latter title, who is to be the 

6 



62 A HOLIDAY TOUR. 

new Canadian Governor-General, and whom the Court Circu- 
lar describes as " Her Majesty's son-in-law." Here centre the 
scenes of volumes of romance and all sorts of traditions; whilst 
centuries ago, Norwegians and Danes, and Picts and Scots, 
and Celts and English fought many a battle amid these beau- 
tiful scenes. 

Passing through the Kyles of Bute, the steamer sailed up 
the beautiful Loch Fyne, skirting the peninsula of Cantyre, 
and to avoid the long journey around this peninsula, debarked 
the passengers, who adopted the primitive navigation of the 
canal to get across it. Here we were introduced, as indeed at 
all the landings on this journey, to the toll-levying methods 
adopted by pier-owners. All passengers are mulcted various 
sums who pass over piers to or from vessels, as a sort of wharf- 
age. Paying the tax, we embarked on a steam-barge on the 
Crinan Canal, which, availing of a depression in the peninsula, 
crosses it at a narrow part, passing through fifteen locks, the 
highest stage being seventy-two feet above the lowest level. 
The canalling and locking were rather exciting, especially as 
Scottish pipers, dressed in Highland costume, availed them- 
selves of the stoppages to play their pibrochs for half-pence, 
whilst bare-legged damsels danced the Highland fiing. The 
canal passed through a pretty country, but did not seem to 
have much trade, though, like all British public works, it is 
very substantially constructed. The canal-barge brought us 
alongside another steamer, as fine and almost as large as the one 
on which we embarked at Glasgow, and we were soon steam- 
ing through the Sound of Jura into Loch Craigneish on our 
way to the heart of the Western Highlands. As we proceeded 
the scenery became constantly more romantic, the steamer 
threading among islands and hills that grew bolder and 
higher as the day advanced. On the left we passed Benmore, 
the mountain of Mull, over three thousand one hundred feet 
high, and we entered the domain of the Earl of Breadalbane, 
one of the largest Scotch landed proprietors. Here we touched 
at Oban, the chief town of the Western Highlands, and a 
fashionable watering-place, which sits on a low, narrow strip 
of land, backed by high hills, the hotels running up the hill- 
sides in terraces, as it were, whilst the harbor in front is filled 
with pleasure-boats, including two or three steam-yachts. Con- 
tinuing the journey the ruins of Dunolly Castle are passed, the 



THE PASS OF GLENCOE. 63 

old-time stronghold of the Lords of Lome, standing on a high 
rock, with everything gone to pieces excepting the donjon- 
keep, around which ivy creeps, giving it excessive beauty. A 
short distance farther, and guarding the entrance to Loch 
Etive, though standing on a low point, is the famous ruin of 
DunstafFnage Castle. Here the ancient Scottish kings were 
crowned on the Dunstaffnage stone, or the stone of Scone, 
which is now the seat of the coronation chair in Westminster 
Abbey, and on which every English sovereign has been 
crowned since James I. Steaming on through higher, rougher, 
and steeper hills, and among regions but sparsely cultivated 
and still more sparsely inhabited, with long vistas of hazy 
view opening up between them ; passing among pretty islands 
and through narrow channels, and into a region that reminded 
me very much of the Juniata, though the water expanse was 
broader, our boat at sunset turned a sharp angle around a 
hill six hundred feet high, partially covered with fir, and we 
were in Loch Leven. Here, at the little town of Ballachu- 
lish, of which the chief buildings seem to be a hotel and a 
post-office, guarding the entrance to the famous pass of Glen- 
coe, and on the banks of the Loch Leven that poets have sung 
about and romancists written of, the journey was broken for 
the night. But it was eleven o'clock before the night began, 
the twilight lingering late in summer-time in these high 
northern latitudes. 

THE PASS OF GLENCOE. 

Next morning, adopting another old-time method of travel, 
■ — for there are no railroads in this celebrated though sparsely- 
inhabited region, — we took the stage-coach through the Pass of 
Glencoe. This pass is said to excel every other glen in Scot- 
land in dreary magnificence, and in history it is associated 
with the massacre of the Clan MacDonald by the English in 
1692, the chief of the clan being the famous MacDonald of 
Glencoe, and the massacre taking place in the glen where the 
clan had received their treacherous foes with free hospitality. 
Relics of the massacre are pointed out at several places in the 
entrance to the glen, but they are fast going to ruin. A mon- 
ument marks the residence of the chief, whose story is inter- 
woven into most of the traditions of the glen. This famous 
pass is not visited by many Americans, though the route cer- 



64 A HOLIDAY TOUR. 

tainly gives the best idea of the Highlands that can be got in 
a hasty tour. The sail above Oban and the entrance to Loch 
Leven give the water scenery, whilst the Pass has all the 
dreary, inhospitable, cold, cheerless, and gigantic magnificence 
that can be put into a mountain and valley landscape. A little 
brook called the Coe, rising at an elevation of about nine hun- 
dred feet above the sea, flows westerly among the huge peaks 
of this portion of the Highlands, and at a distance of about 
ten miles from its source falls into Loch Leven. It makes a 
deep glen of the wildest character, the peculiar character of 
which is the almost entire absence of trees. The peaks rise 
from two thousand to three thousand five hundred feet, with- 
out, a tree upon them, and look like gigantic sugar-loaves, with 
their precipitous, rocky sides run into ravines by the action of 
the water. The very few trees that are in the glen are scat- 
tered at the bottom of the valley. The Coe is an insignificant 
stream, a torrent in the rainy season, but now almost dried up, 
but the valley in which it flows has considerable breadth, and 
on both sides the bold peaks rise up, the whole scene present- 
ing an appearance of utter cheerlessness and inhospitality. 

Nothing that is of value seems to thrive there. Before en- 
tering the glen, on the shores of Loch Leven, there are exten- 
sive slate quarries, but the glen onee entered there seems not 
a living thing. The sparse vegetation is not fit for pasturage. 
There are no horses, no sheep or cattle, such as fill the valleys 
elsewhere ; not a sign of life, excepting at the little stable near 
the head of the glen, where the coach-horses are changed. 
Such a thorough abolition, as it were, of living things from 
the face of the earth I never saw before. The situation of 
the glen is not unlike the Lewistown Narrows, on the Juniata, 
if we can imagine the Juniata dwindled to a dried-up brook, 
its valley widened to a half-mile, and the enclosing mountains 
entirely denuded of trees and surmounted by rows of isolated 
peaks, whilst every building and every living thing is removed 
from the scene. It is the peculiarity of these Highland hills 
that, instead of running in ridges, they are composed of sepa- 
rate peaks, each independent of the other, and elevating their 
pointed, rocky, treeless tops in all directions, with intersecting 
glens and valleys between. 

Having passed out of this dreary scene, with the three for- 
bidding " Sisters of Glencoe" elevating their haughty heads 



THE PASS OF GLENCOE. 65 

on the right, the " Lord Chancellor" on the left, and the 
" Shepherd of the Glen" in front, all high, isolated peaks, 
the route crosses the heads of Glen Etive and Glen Orchy, 
and passes over a ridge fourteen hundred feet above the sea, 
from which the highest mountain in Britain, Ben Nevis, can 
be seen at about twenty miles distance ; the route then seeks 
the valley formed by a tributary of the Tay, and gradually 
descends along the top of a deep canon towards the rail- 
way station at Tyndrum, thirty-six miles from Ballachu- 
lish. Glencoe, I am informed, is partly the property of Miss 
Downie, a wealthy Scottish lady, and partly of the well-known 
family of Stuart. Having passed out of the glen, the route 
is through the extensive domain of the Earl of Breadalbane. 
This portion of the journey is much like a wagon-road up and 
down hill across the eastern slopes of the Alleghenies. There 
is a certain hill at Altoona, where a southern view can be had 
across the railroad of ridge after ridge and spur after spur of 
the mountains, until the horizon cuts it off. The view from 
the summit near the King's House, across Glen Orchy, is not 
unlike this, though it is entirely denuded of trees. The Earl 
of Breadalbane rents all of this territory to the Earl of Dud- 
ley, a wealthy English nobleman, for shooting purposes. Lord 
Dudley has the privilege of bringing his friends here to shoot 
deer during about seven weeks in autumn. For this he pays 
a rent of twenty-five thousand dollars a year, besides maintain- 
ing sixteen houses in different parts of the domain for his six- 
teen gamekeepers who protect the domain from trespass. These 
keepers get, besides their houses, four thousand seven hundred 
and fifty dollars salary. Lord Dudley also maintains a " shoot- 
ing-box" here, in a beautiful position near Tyndrum, the 
" box" being, in fact, a large hotel, capable of accommodating 
thirty to forty guests. There in splendor he entertains his 
friends during the deerstalking season, the Prince of Wales 
being usually among them, and to aid the sport has had planted 
extensive forests of pine, fir, and other trees, in which the deer 
harbor along the valleys adjacent to Tyndrum. He certainly 
pays dearly for a few weeks' sport, but then his income is one 
of the largest in the kingdom. 

The stage-coaches used on this route are great lumbering 
vehicles, built about twice as heavy as an American would 
build a coach to go over such hills. The road is a good one, 

6* 



66 A HOLIDAY TOUR. 

and does not need such heavy vehicles, which almost exhaust 
the horses, though there are four changes in the thirty-six miles. 
At Tyndrum the railway is taken to either Glasgow or Edin- 
burgh. I took the latter. It passes through many historical 
and romantic scenes, whose tales in song or story, as indeed 
the history of the entire route described, have been told by 
Sir Walter Scott. It passes Coilantogle Ford, where Roderick 
Dim, having chivalrously conducted Fitz James thus far in 
safety, according to promise, challenged him to mortal com- 
bat ; then goes through the laud made famous by the exploits 
of Rob Roy ; then leaving the Highlands for the Lowlands, 
passes the famous Castle of Donne and Abbey Craig, with its 
monument to William Wallace ; next goes over the bridge of 
Allan and into Stirling, and alongside the ruins of Stirling 
Castle, the most famous castle of Scotland ; then over the 
battlefield of Bannockburn, the Bannock River being a peace- 
ful brook running between gently-sloping green banks, with 
but enough water to cover its pebbly bed ; through Falkirk 
and by the ruins of Linlithgow Palace, into the ravine through 
Edinburgh, landing its passengers almost beneath the walls of 
Edinburgh Castle and Holyrood. The route ended amid the 
green and highly-cultivated fields of the rich and level country 
near Edinburgh, and the puny, hairy cattle of the Highlands 
were quickly exchanged for the fat ones of the Lowlands ; 
whilst arriving in the modern Athens, and landing at the 
Waverley Bridge, I found that I had to unlearn the lessons 
taught me in school, for all the kilted and breeked Scots and 
people who ought to know were pronouncing the name of 
Edinburgh as if it was written Edinborough. 



LETTER XIII. 

PROUD DUN-EDIN. 



Edinburgh, August 5. 
Few views with more charms burst upon the travellers eye 
than the sight he beholds upon coming into Edinburgh from 
the west, and being set down by the North British Railway 



PROUD DUN-EDIN. 67 

at the Waverley Bridge Station. The railway, after running 
through two tunnels under portions of the city, passes along 
the bottom of a deep ravine, and sloping up from both sides 
are gardens surmounted by magnificent buildings, whilst 
towering above all, on the right-hand side, is Edinburgh 
Castle. Then emerging from the station, crossing the 
Waverley Bridge, and going around the magnificent Waverley 
Memorial into Prince's Street, the sight, as one passes along 
in front of the great hotels, is grand indeed. No wonder 
Dun-Edin and her people are proud. Even the Champs 
Ely sees, of Paris, cannot compare to the front view from 
any one of the hotels on Prince's Street across the ravine to 
the hills beyond, splendid edifices meeting the eye on every 
side, the Castle on its massive rock in front, with red-coated 
sentinels guarding the ramparts, the bottom of the ravine a 
series of lovely gardens, and all made into a landscape in the 
heart of a great city that I believe is without a rival on either 
continent. The modern Athens enjoys from nature a position 
of the highest beauty, which art has adorned in the most 
thorough manner. No visit to Europe is complete without a 
visit to Edinburgh. 

Imagine, if you can, a great city with two ranges of peaks 
scattered through it, — miniature mountains, as it were, rising 
from a rolling plain. Streams of water, with occasional lakes 
and morasses, originally ran through the bottoms of the inter- 
vening valleys; but the one in the central valley has had its 
course stopped, all the water being diverted so as to supply the 
city, whilst the former bed has been converted into the line of 
railway I have spoken of, and the Prince's Street gardens. 
Towering five hundred feet from the former bank of this 
stream, and in the heart of the city, rises the rugged and pre- 
cipitous rock on which stands the famous Edinburgh Castle, 
still a garrisoned post, but the hill being also availed of now 
for the more peaceful object of furnishing a water reservoir 
for the city. Farther down are the rugged Salisbury Craigs, 
which terminate in the abrupt peak, eight hundred and twenty- 
three feet high, looking like a recumbent lion, which is known 
as Arthur's Seat. On the country side of this range, and at 
some distance, are the Pentland Hills, nineteen hundred feet 
high, whence these water-courses take their source. Across 
the city, and on the other side of the ravine, are other hills, 



68 A HOLIDAY TOUR. 

three hundred to four hundred feet high, the most prominent 
being Colton Hill, and these slope down to the little stream 
known as the Water of Leith, whilst on the other side the 
land rises upwards again. On these hills and in these val- 
leys Edinburgh is built, with the Castle in the centre, the 
" Old Town" on one side of it, and the " New Town" on the 
other. The configuration of the ground gives scores of situ- 
ations for magnificent edifices, and they are thoroughly availed 
of. The city is a succession of statues, memorials, commem- 
orative edifices, churches, castles, and historical buildings, and 
no townsman has done anything to merit fame who is not com- 
memorated in some way. Edinburgh is handing down to pos- 
terity in " storied urn and animated bust" the memories of 
all her great people. 

Three famous names, however, eclipse all others in the dec- 
oration of Edinburgh, — Sir Walter Scott, Mary, Queen of 
Scots, and John Knox, — and their memorials are seen every- 
where. Scott revived the chivalry of a former day, and the 
city of his birth and chief residence is doing everything to 
keep his memory green. On the corner-stone of the magnifi- 
cent Waverley Memorial, which is an emblematic structure, 
built two hundred feet high, covered with statues of Scott's 
chief characters, and enclosing also one of the great writer, 
Lord Jeffrey inscribed words declaring that Scott's admirable 
writings had given more delight and suggested better feeling 
to a larger class of readers, in every rank of society, than those 
of any other author, with the exception of Shakspeare alone. 
The designer of this magnificent memorial was drowned be- 
fore its completion. In and around the city you are pointed 
to hundreds of memorials of the writer and his characters, 
which the town has marked so as to preserve their fame. 
His dwelling-house is shown ; George Herriot's hospital and 
schools ; the site of the Tolbooth, where Eflfie Deans was con- 
fined, as told in the " Heart of Mid-Lothian," this spot being 
marked by the figure of a heart formed by the stones in the 
street pavement where it stood ; Effie's trysting-places at St. 
Andrew's Well and the cairn ; Jennie Deans' cottage ; the 
" closes" and " wynds," and inns and buildings told of in 
Scott's songs and stories ; every man, woman, and child in the 
city being familiar with them all, and ready to tell of them, 
and showing a veneration for the great writer such as is 



PROUD DUN-EDIN. 69 

scarcely found for any one. As we have passed through 
Scotland this has been the prominent trait of the people, 
and the admiration of the Scots for the author of Waverley 
stands out as conspicuously as the veneration of Americans 
for Washington. 

Of Mary, Queen of Scots, many precious relics are also 
kept. Buildings that were her favorite resorts in and near the 
city are guarded with scrupulous care, but the chief relics 
cluster around the Castle and Holyrood. The Castle, to which 
there is but one entrance, over the drawbridge across the old 
moat, which is now used by the garrison, Her Majesty's Fif- 
tieth Regiment of Foot, in the peaceful occupation of pitching 
quoits, is maintained as far as possible in its original condi- 
tion. The chief objects here are Mary's room, with the ad- 
joining apartment, about ten feet square, where her son, James 
I., was born, and from the window of which he was lowered 
when eight days old, in a basket, down the precipitous sides 
of the rock at night to trusty friends below, who carried him off 
to a place of supposed greater safety. Both rooms are dark and 
dismal, looking more like prisons than a palace. The little 
room, which is historically so famous, is a photograph-shop at 
present. Then there is the regalia-room, which was reopened 
chiefly through the exertions of Sir Walter Scott. Here are 
exhibited the crown of Robert Bruce, the sword of state, and 
jewels of the throne of Scotland, set with gems, and very val- 
uable. These articles, when Scotland was united with Eng- 
land in the early part of the eighteenth century, the Scots 
were afraid would be carried off to London. Their custodians 
enclosed them in their chest, and closed up the doors and stair- 
ways leading to the apartment. Here they rested for over one 
hundred years, until Scott, in delving through the musty rec 
ords of the city, searching for materials for his novels, dis- 
covered papers indicating their whereabouts. Every one had 
forgotten them ; but Scott had a royal warrant issued for a 
search, and by dint of breaking locks and entering into hidden 
places the crown regalia-room was ultimately opened to public 
view in 1818. These priceless gems, which, it is said, Scot- 
land would raise a rebellion if their removal was attempted, 
are now exhibited, together with the huge old chest that con- 
tained them, on the spot of their hiding. They are enclosed 
in an iron cage, jealously guarded, and Scott's description and 



70 A HOLIDAY TOUR. 

history of them is at hand ready for visitors. This apartment 
is adjacent to Queen Mary's room in the Castle, but is so 
situated as to be easily overlooked. 

On the highest pinnacle of the Castle, opposite the grated 
pan wherein the alarm-fires were kindled in former days to 
rouse the clans upon a Southern invader appearing, and point- 
ing at the New Town, almost over a little adjoining graveyard 
which attracts fully as much attention, is the famous old gun 
11 Mons Meg," supposed to have been made at Mons, in Bel- 
gium, in 1486, and to have been at the siege of Norham 
Castle, a few years later. This gun is thirteen and a half 
feet long, seven feet io circumference at the largest part, and 
of twenty inches diameter of bore. It is made of longitudi- 
nal iron bars, wrapped around by other bars to hold them 
together, and fired stone balls, several specimens of which 
are at hand. It was kept in Scotland until after the union 
of the kingdoms, when it was sent to London, and was one 
of the great curiosities of the Tower. It was restored to 
Scotland in 1826. The gun is very rough and is mounted on 
a modern carriage. It has no trunnions, and originally sat in 
a wooden box on wheels. The little graveyard which this 
effete monster guards is used by the troops in burying the pet 
dogs of the garrison. It is a triangular space, covering about 
fifty square feet, wherein are set up the modest tombstones 
recording the virtues of Tiny, Flora, Toby, and Topsy. They 
have more exalted graves than the kings and queens of Scot- 
land, whose dust lies in the ruins of Holyrood Abbey, but so 
commingled and desecrated in the religious wars of the country 
that their tombs are not recognizable. St. Margaret's Chapel, 
a small, low apartment, about twenty-five by ten feet, with 
arched roof, is the oldest part of the Castle, and has been re- 
stored. It is a bare, dungeon-like apartment, with no attrac- 
tions but its antiquity. It is said to be eight hundred years old. 

Holyrood Palace, like the Castle, is also chiefly famous for 
its relics of Queen Mary. Here she lived with her husband, 
Lord Darnley, and here the latter got up the conspiracy to 
murder the Italian Secretary, Rizzio. Mary's apartments are 
shown, with her furniture and bed. They are antiquated relics, 
time-worn and moth-eaten, but gazed at still with wondering 
eyes. Here is the narrow, winding, stone stairway, circling 
around like the stairways in factory towers, up which the con- 




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i\ 






I. 



m 

* ;,;|; ''ill 

i: I III 









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PROUD DUN-EDIN. 71 

spirators crept into Mary's room ; the closet where they hid 
themselves ; and the little circular apartment in the corner 
tower of the palace where they fell upon Rizzio and killed 
him, and his blood-stains (it is alleged) are there on the floor. 
The palace surrounds a square court-yard, and adjoining on 
the left-hand side are the ruins of Holyrood Abbey. The 
stone roof has fallen in, breaking down part of the walls and 
some of the massive columns along the nave; but the formation 
of the roofless building is completely shown, and its floor is 
partially paved with flat gravestones and partially a grass-plot. 
The palace contains a gallery of execrable portraits of Scottish 
princes, going back two thousand years, which all look alike ; 
and most of them were evidently painted by the same person 
by wholesale contract. Queen Mary's is the chief, and seems 
to have been recently brightened up. Old tapestries hang on 
the walls of the smaller rooms, dingy with age, but withstand- 
ing time's ravages with success in other respects. 

To get a view of the Old Town, a walk along the High 
Street and into the famous Canongate is the best way. There 
are tall, weird, old houses on either hand, and among them 
the narrow home of John Knox, a strange-looking building, 
adjoining a church. Nearly every house in these two streets 
is historically famous, and out of these streets run curious 
alleys known as closes, and bearing quaint names, such as 
" Big Jock's close," " Bakehouse close," " Strathie's close," 
etc. " White House close" leads to a famous inn. All these 
old houses, some of which are sad-looking rookeries, were in 
former days the homes of the nobility. The dukes and earls 
of the olden time were evidently satisfied with very rude ac- 
commodations. Among the relics of John Knox is shown 
St. Giles' Cathedral, where he preached, an ancient edifice 
since restored. Behind it was the graveyard where he is 
buried. I say was, for that graveyard is now a street in front 
of the Parliament House, and among two or three plates let 
into the pavement marking famous graves over which carriages 
run, is a modest one marking Knox's grave. It bears simply 
the initials "I. K." and the year 1572. On coming out of 
the Canongate are seen the lines of stones across the street 
marked with the letter " S," across which Edinburgh debtors 
rush to secure safety from creditors, and keep out of jail till 
they can make a settlement. 



72 A HOLIDAY TOUR. 

It would be impossible to write of or remember, in a hasty 
visit, all the attractions of this wonderful city. It has a 
magnificent drive around Arthur's Seat, known as the Queen's 
Drive, from which there are a series of lovely views across 
the Firth of Forth to Fifeshire, and over the land towards the 
Pentland Hills, disclosing a beautiful country. Up near the 
top of this hill is a pretty little lake, whereof it is told that a 
befogged guide, on one occasion, informed some strangers that 
the Ark, after the deluge, rested on Arthur's Seat, and this 
lake was a " piece of the flood." But the Scot who told me 
this story volunteered the further information, in justice to 
his race, that this guide was an Irishman. Fettis College is a 
modern building, across the Water of Leith, constructed in 
admirable style, from which there is a fine view ; as, indeed, 
there is from a dozen points of vantage in and around Edin- 
burgh. Also bordering the Water of Leith is Dean Cemetery, 
where the famous people of the present day are buried. Here 
Lord Jeffrey rests, and the peculiarity of the graveyard is 
that there are no mounds over the graves, the cemetery being 
a dead-level, with plain flat grass-plots covering the graves. 
Some of the tombs are very fine. Occasionally, in wandering 
around the city, there are reminders of America, the most 
prominent being a sign, " New York Ox-Beef Company," 
showing that American meat sometimes gets here. Weeks 
could be spent in examining this great place, and there is no 
wonder that the Edinburgh people are proud of their city, or 
that the Scots carry its fame all over the world. Dun-Edin 
has many things to be proud of. 

A SABBATH AT ROSSLIN CHAPEL. 

Edinburgh keeps Sunday strictly. The street-cars do not 
run. Scarcely a vehicle is in the streets. The red-coated 
soldiers of the Castle garrison are marched without drum or 
music to church. The bells ring, and almost the entire pop- 
ulation seems to attend the churches, judging by the crowds 
going to them and the deserted appearance of the streets 
after the service begins. But the thing for the visitor to do 
appears to be not to go to church in Edinburgh, but to attend 
the service held in that remarkable little edifice, about eight 
miles out of town, known as Bosslin Chapel. So thither we 
went, crossing the North and South Bridges and out past the 



A SABBATH AT ROSSLIN CHAPEL. 73 

college which now stands upon the ground where the house 
formerly stood in which Lord Darnley was blown up, through 
the pleasant suburb of Newington, south near Lasswade to the 
chapel. Lasswade stands on the Esk, and they show you 
there a photograph of the girl carrying a man on her back 
across the Esk, he telling her, "Jenny, lass, wade," from 
which circumstance the village standing at the spot gets its 
name. 

Rosslin Chapel is by no means an ancient church, having 
been built in the fifteenth century, beginning in 1446. It 
was intended for a large church, but only the choir and a 
portion of the transept walls seem to have been completed. 
Near by is one of the seats of the family of the Earl of 
Caithness, Rosslin Castle, from which the chapel derives its 
name. This chapel is considered the most beautiful specimen 
of church architecture in Scotland. It is small, being only 
about seventy by fifty feet inside, but its Gothic architecture 
is of varied and singular character. Inside and outside it is 
most elaborately ornamented by curious carvings in the stone. 
The high Gothic arched roof is supported by fourteen massive 
pillars, from which cloistered arches are sprung right and left. 
There are no less than thirteen different kinds of arches within 
the church, each being ornamented with gorgeous designs 
carved in the stone, and of a different character for each. Such 
profuse and elaborate ornamentation, covering and carved into 
almost every stone forming the pillars, walls, or roof, I never 
saw before. This church was desecrated during the religious 
wars of 1688, by a mob from Edinburgh, the statues thrown 
down and much injury done, the outside especially showing 
the effects of ill-treatment. But it is carefully preserved now 
in its half-destroyed condition, standing on a lawn enclosed by 
an ivy-covered wall. Its chief curiosity is the " 'prentice 
pillar," around which garlands are twined, carved in the stone. 
It is related that the builder went to Rome to get a design 
for a pillar that would exceed all others in beauty. When he 
returned he found that an apprentice had erected this one, 
which outshone his design, and in anger he struck down the 
apprentice with a hammer and killed him. The column is 
beautiful, but the story is apocryphal. In former times the 
chapel belonged to the Barons of Rosslin, and several of 
them are interred beneath it, clad in full armor, and this, with 
d 7 



74 A HOLIDAY TOUR. 

the romance connected with it of the chapel appearing in 
flames whenever one of these Barons died, Scott tells in the 
ballad of " Rosabelle." 

The service of the Episcopal Church was conducted within 
it, beginning at noon, by a single clergyman to a congregation 
of about two hundred, all that the old-fashioned seats and the 
stone benches around the walls would accommodate. They 
were chiefly strangers, and their wandering eyes showed that 
the curious chapel, more than the prayer-book, was occupying 
their minds. Returning from Rosslin, by a different route 
through the suburb of Morningside, there was passed the villa 
of Rockville, a strangely-built house of large proportions, or- 
nate and attractive, constructed of various-colored stones, which 
had come into port at Leith and elsewhere, as ballast in vessels 
from all parts of the world. There was also passed the old and 
partly honeycombed stone, the Lore stone, whereon was set 
up the Scottish standard at the battle of Flodden in 1513. 
This stone is placed on a column by the roadside, with an in- 
scription, quoting its history from " Marmion." All the sub- 
urbs of Edinburgh are fine, and from all, for miles away, there 
tower up as the central point of view towards the city the 
Castle rock and Arthur's Seat. 



LETTER, XIV. 

CROSSING THE BORDER. 

York, August 6. 
The railway from Edinburgh southward over the border to 
England, the Great Northern line, passes along the east coast, 
running by the banks of the Firth of Forth and the edge of 
the North Sea. The route lies through a country of great 
beauty and deep historical interest, made famous by the border 
wars and by Scott's writings. For miles north and south of 
Berwick-upon-Tweed the cars run almost upon the edge of the 
ocean, elevated on the cliffs high above the water, giving a 
glorious view far over the sea, whilst the boundary between 



CROSSING THE BORDER. 75 

Scotland and England is passed upon a bridge, built by Stephen- 
son, one hundred and twenty-five feet high, two thousand feet 
long, and costing six hundred thousand dollars. Here a brisk 
wind blew. An incautious Englishman on the train, looking 
out the window, had his hat whisked off his head, and the 
accommodating Scotch engineer of a locomotive following the 
train stopped his engine and picked it up, a proof of border 
courtesy. On the way through Scotland the route passes the 
battle-field of Preston Pans, where the Pretender, in 1745, de- 
feated the English ; Carberry Hill, where Queen Mary sur- 
rendered to the Scottish nobles, and was afterwards imprisoned 
in Loch Leven Castle ; Gilford Gate, the birthplace of John 
Knox ; the old castle of Hobgoblin Hall, mentioned in " Mar- 
mion," which is now Yester House, the seat of the Marquis 
of Tweeddale; Tantallan Castle, now in ruins, the former 
stronghold of the Douglas family, where Marmion bearded the 
" Douglas in his hall ;" Dunbar Castle ruins, eight hundred 
years old, the scene of many memorable conflicts, Edward II. 's 
refuge after his defeat at Bannockburn, and Queen Mary's 
refuge before her surrender at Carberry Hill ; Broxsburne 
House, Cromwell's headquarters at the battle of Dunbar, and 
now a seat of the Duke of Roxburgh ; near Fast Castle, the 
Wolf's Crag of the " Bride of Lammermoor" ; the ruins of 
Lamberton Kirk, where Margaret, daughter of Henry VII., 
and James IV. were married, which was the origin of the 
uniou of the kingdoms of Eugland and Scotland ; and finally 
Berwick itself, taken and retaken and destroyed over and over 
again during the border wars. South of Berwick the route 
passes near Alnwick Castle, a magnificent establishment, now 
the seat of the Duke of Northumberland, and dating anterioi 
to the Norman conquest. Here are the ruins of the ancient 
abbeys of Alnwick and Hulme, and of Warn worth Castle ; and 
then the line goes through Newcastle-upon-Tyne, which is 
famous the world over as a bad place to send coal to, and which 
gets its name from the New Castle, an ancient-looking ruin at 
least seven hundred years old. This town enjoys the usual 
fortune of cities in the Old World, in having its fame as a ship- 
ping port for coal spread far and wide, but it does not send 
away as much coal as the Reading Railroad sends from Port 
Richmond, and the Tyne, which carries this commerce, is only 
about half as wide as the Schuylkill where it passes by New- 



76 A HOLIDAY TOUR. 

castle, though below it empties into the sea as a wider estuary, 
and here accommodates the shipping. Newcastle itself is a 
strange-looking town, with red tiled roofs, narrow, dingy, 
crooked streets, and numerous chimneys belching forth smoke 
from the many iron-works. These mills and furnaces are also 
numerous in the surrounding country, whilst the neighborhood 
is a perfect net-work of railways carrying coal from various 
lines to the shipping piers. The centre of the city, away from 
the river, contains, however, several fine streets, squares, and 
buildings, secured by clearing away and modernizing the 
ancient structures in that section. 

Crossing the river Wear, a stream about the size of Yv 7 is- 
sahickon Creek, there rise up on precipitous rocks border- 
ing the river, high elevated above the red tiled roofs of the 
town, the towers of Durham Castle and Cathedral, of both of 
which, apparently adjoining each other, a fine view is had from 
the railway, which runs on a high level above the tops of the 
houses. The Cathedral is seven hundred years old, and the 
castle was built by William the Conqueror, and both seemed, 
at the distance from which I saw them, to be in good condi- 
tion. All the country hereabouts is thoroughly cultivated, and 
the little streams ruuning through deep valleys, past sloping 
green fields and occasional bits of woods where the land is 
too steep for cultivation, add to the picturesque scene ; an 
occasional tall chimney pouring out smoke, reminding, how- 
ever, of the iron underlying this entire region. Huge heaps 
of slag and refuse surround the furnaces as with us, the Eng- 
lish not knowing how to utilize it any better than we do. At 
Darlington the iron-mills are in abundance, and the railway 
station bristles with announcements of " Ozokerit Candles," 
whatever they may be, whilst an occasional donkey is seen 
toiling along the roads, carrying a pannier on each side and a 
baby in each pannier. Here there came to greet us a Pullman 
palace car on the railway, and an announcement of the Amer- 
ican line of steamers hung up in the station. We had got into 
Yorkshire and, at North Allerton, found an Agricultural Fair 
in full progress, with plenty of red-painted farming-machines 
and fat cattle, but no " horse trots" as at home. The ladies, 
although it was August, were going about the streets clad in 
furs, having probably brought them out for an airing at the 
fair. The farther south the train progressed the riper became 



Hi 

111 

is 



;- ■— pSjj 




THE ANCIENT CITY OF FORK. 77 

the grain-fields, and the nearer seemed the harvest, and the 
trees also became more numerous, being generally planted along 
the hedges, though there were frequent pieces of woodland. 
Then we passed the North York Wolds and the Hambleton 
Hills, and came gradually down upon the almost level plain 
on which York stands, the drab-colored towers of the Minster 
rising from afar, as the first indication of the approach to the 
city, into which we ran alongside its famous river, the Ouse, a 
stream about one hundred and fifty feet wide. We were now in 
York, and knew we had successfully crossed the border into 
England by the butter being salted when placed upon the 
hotel table. Scotland serves up its butter without salt, and I 
am told this is one of the best ways of detecting when you 
have crossed the Scottish border. 

THE ANCIENT CITY OF YORK. 

Of all the old things in England York claims to be the 
oldest. She has Roman antiquities by the acre ; her people 
talk of the Romans as familiarly as of the events of yesterday, 
and they trace their genealogy back " to the great grandson 
of iEneas, who was contemporary with King David." York 
was the Roman capital of Britain, and here Constantine the 
Great was born. This ancient town boasts of structures a 
thousand years old, and has Roman antiquities of all kinds 
lying around, whilst the people have so little relish for modern 
things that they almost stopped making history after the " Wars 
of the Roses." The white rose of York is introduced into 
pretty much everything in the city, albeit the people put up 
the head of Richard, Duke of York, as a warning to traitors, 
upon the chief entrance to the city, Micklegate bar. The two 
and three-quarter miles of old and carefully preserved walls, 
towers, gates, battlements, and bastions, almost surrounding 
this ancient city, enclose a sort of condensed Boston, although 
the streets outrival anything that Boston can show in the 
matters of crookedness and irregularity. They are not only 
crooked but of varying width, and run into and out of each 
other at all sorts of angles and by all sorts of curves. Every 
house is ancient and Roman-like in appearance. Even the 
few new ones put up are made so as to imitate the curious 
and cumbrous construction of the olden time. It is a very 
easy city to get lost in, but then the towers of the Minster 

7* 



78 A HOLIDAY TOUR. 

stand out as a landmark, which can be sought for a fresh 
start. The streets are nearly all named " gates," such as Pe- 
tergate, Castlegate, Newgate, Friargatc, Fossgate, Cripplegate, 
Goodrarngate, Fishergate, Monkgate, Skeldergate, and the 
like ; whilst the gates are all called " bars." The old Castle 
of York is of little account now, all that is left being a flat- 
tened, broad, round tower, called Clifford's Tower, dating from 
the Norman conquest. The remainder of the present Castle 
is a comparatively modern structure within high walls, and 
used as a jail. The city has any number of churches. They 
appear in all directions. There are several of them under the 
very walls of the Minster. A chief use to which they seem 
just now to be put is as public bill-boards. All the church 
doors contain announcements to the public to step up and pay 
their taxes, and also long lists of voters, for York is about 
having an election, and this is the way the polling lists are 
put up. Might not Philadelphia get a hint from this antique 
city and put up her election lists on the churches as well as 
on the taverns ? York's chief present pride seems to centre 
in an old stage-bill and her Minster. Jealously guarded as a 
precious relic is this old stage-bill, about six inches by four, 
printed in ancient type, in 1706, and announcing the begin- 
ning of the regular stage-line, between York and London, on 
which the stages were to start three times a week, commencing 
April 12, in that year. This line, the little bill tells us, " per- 
forms the whole journey in four days (if God permits), and 
sets forth at five in the morning." 

York Minster, the Cathedral of St. Peter, is worthy the 
pride of the city. It is the largest Gothic church in England, 
and contains the largest church-bell in the kingdom, " Old 
Peter" weighing ten and three-quarter tons, and struck regu- 
larly every day at noon. The Minster is of huge size, five 
hundred and twenty-four feet long, two hundred and twenty- 
two feet wide, ninety-nine feet high in the nave, and about 
two hundred feet in the towers. The nave would hold our 
Masonic Temple without its tower, though one can stand under 
the central lantern of York Minster and look up one hundred 
and ninety-six feet to the roof, it being two hundred and twelve 
feet high. These are large proportions, and there is no won- 
der this massive pile was two centuries in building. Its great 
charm is its windows, most of them containing the original 



THE ANCIENT CITY OF YORK. 79 

stained glass, some of it dating back as far as the year 130(X 
These windows are of enormous size, the East Window being 
the largest stained-glass window in the world, — seventy-seven 
by thirty-two feet, — and of exquisite design, made in 1408, 
by John Thornton, of Coventry, who designed, stained, and 
glazed it, doing the whole work on wages of four shillings a 
week, and ten pounds gratuity when finished. Then there is 
the famous Five Sisters Window at the end of one transept, 
designed by five nuns, each planning a tall, narrow sash ; and 
the beautiful Rose Window at the end of the other transept. 
This old glass is among the most famous in Europe. The 
Minster, like most other church edifices, has been desecrated 
in the religious and civil wars, some statues being thrown 
down and others beheaded. Curiously enough, however, the 
desecrators left the statue of St. George, which stands high up 
in the nave, untouched. He defies the dragon, which pokes out 
its head on the opposite side, and they concluded to let them 
fight it out. The Chapter House, an octagonal building, sixty- 
three feet in diameter, surmounted by a pyramidal roof, is one 
of the gems of the Minster. Seven of its sides are composed 
of large stained-glass windows, and the ceiling is a magnificent 
work. It is no wonder that an Archbishop, Bishop, and about 
thirty other clergymen of various grades are required to con- 
duct such a grand church as this. Its tombs are among its 
curiosities. All its walls are full of memorial tablets, a few 
modern ones to fallen soldiers of recent English wars, but 
most of them ancient. There are strange tombs set in the 
walls bearing effigies of the dead. Sir AVilliam Gee stands 
there with his two wives, one on each side, and his six chil- 
dren, all eight statues having their hands folded. Others sit 
up like Punch and Judy, the women being dressed in hoops 
and farthingales and ruffs, in the highest fashions of their age. 
There are scores of graves of archbishops, so plenty as to be 
almost unnoticed. Here is buried Wentworth, second Earl of 
Strafford ; also the famous Hotspur, whose body rests in the 
wall underneath the great East Window. In one tomb the 
effigy of an archbishop lies on the ground covered by a stone 
canopy, and the corpse, instead of being underneath the ground, 
is up overhead in the canopy. This tomb is six hundred and 
twenty years old. Here is buried Burke's friend Saville, his 
epitaph having been written by that great statesman. Under- 



80 A HOLIDAY TOUR. 

neath the Minster is the crypt, the walls of which were those 
of a church standing there before the present one was built. 
Some of the effigies on the tombs represent skeletons, others 
wasted corpses, the faces being life-like, but depicting the 
agony of death. Some of these reproduce the diseases that 
caused death. One archbishop died of a white swelling, and 
his effigy reproduces it, one knee being made much larger than 
the other. The outside of the Minster has all sorts of gro- 
tesque protuberances, which, according to the ancient style of 
church-building, represent the evil spirits that religion casts 
out. 

This strange old city of York ranks next in dignity to Lon- 
don, and is the only other English city which has a Lord 
Mayor. It has not grown much for a good while, but stands 
still at about fifty-one thousand population. Its walls and 
gates are great curiosities. Nearly all the walls have outside 
them the old ditches, dry now, but carefully preserved and 
plainly visible. The gates are surmounted by towers and bat- 
tlements, and are very strong, giving an excellent idea of the 
system of defensive works in the middle ages. The utmost 
care is taken to preserve these precious relics, and there are a 
few remains of an old arched wall, overgrown with ivy, which 
is all that is left of Cardinal Wolsey's palace. The Multan- 
gular Tower, with its ten sides, is also carefully preserved, a 
Roman relic, and near it stand a row of ancient Roman stone 
coffins, which were exhumed in different parts of the town. 
A little way out of town is the village of Holgate, which was 
the residence of Lindley Murray, the grammarian. 

It does not do for an American, however, to venture alone 
far from home in this ancient city, for he quickly discovers 
that the kind of English he has learnt is not the kind that is 
spoken in this part of England. The antiquity of everything 
seems to have affected the language, for it is not the modern 
dialect as taught in Philadelphia, and for all I know may be 
some antique version of our mother-tongue. In fact, I have 
discovered, since landing in this kingdom, more about the 
English language and its versatility of pronunciation than 
ever I dreamed of before. In Liverpool I was at once recog- 
nized byrny pronunciation as an American, whilst in Wales, 
as soon as I talked, I was accused of being an Irishman. In 
Ireland they thought inc a Scotchman, and in Scotland an 



AN ENGLISH WATERING-PLACE. 81 

Englishman. Now, however, in York they do not seem to 
recognize me at all — or I them, for that matter. A French- 
man's English has a better show than an American's in this 
antique city. If any of my countrymen wander this way let 
them not boldly venture to pronounce the name of the city as 
we do at home, " Y-o-r-k." If they do, the Yorkshireman 
will understand it to be and write it down as " Newark." 
But let them pronounce it " Y-a-w-k," and all will be well. 



LETTER XV. 

AN ENGLISH WATERING-PLACE. 

Scarborough, August 7. 

Scarborough, says the guide-book, is " the queen of water 
ing-places" in England, and, therefore, I hied thither. It is 
certainly a place that its owners may well be proud of, and it 
has no counterpart on the American coast. About a half- 
dozen miles above the famous Flamborough Head, on the 
Yorkshire coast of England, there juts out for a mile into the 
North Sea a lozenge-shaped promontory, having on each side 
semi-circular bays, — looking like miniature bays of Naples, — 
each about a mile and a quarter across. Steep cliffs, from two 
hundred to three hundred feet high, run precipitously down to 
the beach all around these bays, and on these cliffs is the town 
of Scarborough. At the extreme point of the promontory, 
and fully three hundred feet above the sea, which washes it on 
three sides, is the Castle ; whilst myriads of fishing-vessels 
cluster around the breakwater piers constructed there to make 
a harbor of refuge. As may be imagined, a seaside town, 
giving four or five miles of bluff, elevated two or three hun- 
dred feet above a smooth sand-beach, would be considered a 
grand watering-place ; but when to this is added the Spa, two 
famous mineral springs, coming out of the hill almost at the 
water's edge, its rauk becomes first-class. It is Long Branch, 
Saratoga, and Cape May combined. It has the bluff, the 
springs, and the beach. 

The town is old, and the older streets crooked and confused ; 

D* 



82 A HOLIDAY TOUR. 

but in the newer portions millions of money have been expended 
in adornment and buildings. Everything is built of brick or 
stone or iron, in the most substantial manner. The roads 
are solid, the bridges ornamental and strong, the hotels of large 
size. Whilst the bluffs on the northern bay are left almost as 
nature formed them, so precipitous that their sides are nearly 
perpendicular, the cliffs on the southern bay have been con- 
verted into a beautifully-terraced garden and promenade. 
Here, amid flowers and summer-houses and terraced walks, 
is the fashionable promenade, the foot-paths twining up and 
down the face of the cliffs, or broadening into the garden on 
the shore, where music is provided and there are attractive 
illuminations at night. Over two million dollars have been 
expended in beautifying the front of the cliffs which adjoins 
the Spa, and there is now being erected there a grand music 
hall, and refreshment- and conversation-room, at a cost of four 
hundred thousand dollars. All these buildings and other struc- 
tures are made of solid brick and stone, built to stay, whilst 
the pier, which runs out over the water, is of iron, and, for 
about live cents fee, one can go out to the pier-end and listen 
to the music there provided, and, at the same time, watch the 
water. The views from the cliff-tops, however, are the great 
attractions of the place. 

Yet, with all its beauty and attractiveness, and the crowds 
thronging it, for this is the height of the season, Scarborough 
has no surf equal to or approaching that of Cape May. It 
has the broad beach, but the North Sea only rolls upon it the 
tamest kind of waves. The Gloucester ferry-boats do as well 
for the little boys who watch for " rolleys" along that sand-girt 
shore. The North Sea can, I am told, knock things about in a 
storm, but it cannot provide surf-bathing at Scarborough to suit 
an American. They would probably give a million or two to 
get here a piece of the surf that washes our New Jersey coast. 
Hence the bathing does not come up to the other attractions of 
the place. Rows of little boxes on wheels — the bathing- houses 
— are drawn by horses into the water, and their occupants get 
out and bathe, whilst the box waits for them, and when they 
re-enter it is drawn back on the beach. This is the English 
system of surf-bathing. You change your clothing in the 
little box. The Scarborough surf ruffles playfully about its 
wheels. The New Jersey surf would knock it all to pieces. 



TWO ENGLISH HOMES. 83 

The Scarborough beach forms a fine drive, and the hackmen 
are glad enough to haul people all around the place at twelve 
cents apiece. Hundreds of patient little donkeys stand on the 
beach for juvenile riders, and give little boys and girls a half- 
hour's ride for six cents. Scarborough prices are not high, 
which may account for its popularity. I was only charged 
twelve cents to enter the Spa, the gardens and terraces, and 
enjoy all the attractions for which so much money has been 
expended, and the refreshments sold in its gorgeous saloons 
were at reasonable prices. Possibly if American watering- 
places were to imitate some of these moderate charges they 
would get more custom. As it is, Scarborough finds a railway 
station almost as large as that of the Pennsylvania Railroad in 
West Philadelphia necessary to accommodate its travel, yet 
the town has but twenty-five thousand population. The 
season, which begins in June, is at its height in August and 
September, and is over by December. For six months every- 
thing is shut up, and, like our sea-coast cities, it is partially 
deserted. Of course time is necessary to build up such a 
grand place, and by the time two hundred years have passed 
over our watering-places, as they have over Scarborough Spa, 
we may find it a worthy rival. 



LETTER XVI. 

TWO ENGLISH HOMES. 

Rowsley, August 8. 

Nestling among the limestone hills of Derbyshire, at the 
point where the Wye flows into the Derwent, is the pretty 
little village of Rowsley, whereof two Dukes divide the own- 
ership, part of the land in the neighborhood being the estate 
of the Duke of Rutland, and part the estate of the Duke 
of Devonshire. This village stands almost midway between 
two of the famous homes of England, one a home of the olden 
time, and the other more modern. To get to Rowsley, either 
from Manchester to the North or Derby to the South, the 
visitor has to pass over one of the most costly-constructed 



81 A HOLIDAY TOUR. 

railways in the kingdom. The country is rugged, — high hills 
and deep valleys, — and this portion of the Midland Railway is 
almost entirely a tunnel or a deep rock cutting. It winds its 
way through and under the great limestone rocks, until it 
passes probably forty tunnels, many of them a mile in length. 
Such boring and cutting as are here exhibited are rarely seen 
even in this land of costly railways. Among these rocks 
marble and limestone are quarried, and the lime-kilns are fre- 
quent. The country is full of antiquarian remains, and at 
Buxton and elsewhere there are Roman relics and famous me- 
dicinal springs ; but none of these things have the attraction 
that draws to Rowsley, and has made its little old-fashioned 
" Peacock Inn" one of the famous hostelries of Europe. A 
quaint building is this old-time inn, with its low ceilings and 
thick walls, its narrow stairways, and Queen Elizabeth window- 
panes. How old the house is no one seems to know ; but it 
mounts upon the roof the famous peacock, which is the crest 
of the ducal house of Rutland, to which estate it belongs, and, 
long after it was built, some one carved on the stone over the 
door, in rude characters, the name " John Ste-venson," di- 
vided into two lines where the hyphen is placed, and the date, 
half on each side of the name, "16-52." It has been an inn 
for over two centuries, and before that time it was the manor- 
house to Haddon Hall, which has not been occupied as a resi- 
dence for over a hundred years. The gardens of the inn run 
down to the edge of the Derwent and are a little paradise. 
To this ancient place I went, and slept in a high-post bedstead 
up under the peaked roof, so as to get a proper start next 
morning for a visit to the two famous English homes near by, 
which are entirely the opposite of each other in every respect. 

THE ANCIENT BARONIAL HALL. 

American readers have probably noticed that in every 
British Conservative Ministry during recent years there has 
appeared the name of Lord John Manners as Postmaster-Gen- 
eral. Manners is the family name of the Puke of Rutland, and 
Lord John is the Duke's younger brother and heir. Proceeding 
up the Wye from Rowsley, the Rutland estate covers almost 
all the land, and its chief centre is the renowned old house, 
or rather series of houses, known as " Haddon Hall." This 
ancient baronial home, with its court-yards, towers, embattled 



THE ANCIENT BARONIAL HALL. 85 

walls, and gardens, is located on a hill-side sloping down to the 
Wye, whilst the railway has pierced a tunnel through the hill, 
almost under the ancient buildings. It is maintained not as a 
residence, but to give as perfect an idea as is possible of a ba- 
ronial hall of the middle ages. It did not always belong to the 
family of Manners, though their most famous possession now, 
but came to them through a romantic marriage. Scott has 
woven its history into several of his absorbing tales. Parts 
of it go back to the Norman conquest, and from " Peveril of 
the Peak" it passed to the family of the Vernons, a daughter 
of which house eloped with Sir John Manners, clandestinely- 
married him, and in 1561, inheriting the estate from her father, 
brought it into the family now owning it. This lady casts a 
halo around the old hall which cannot be dissociated from it. 
We are told that she fled away with her lover whilst a ball 
was progressing. The Jong, narrow ball-room, with its low 
ceiling and rich oak carvings on the walls, is shown, and with 
it Lady Dorothy's stair, and door, and postern. She fled down 
the stair and out the door into the garden at night, then across 
the flowers and grass to the outer wall, and through the postern, 
where her lover was waiting, and they disappeared in the wood 
covering the hill-side. 

Haddon Hall is an ancient place, and kept so purposely. 
Its stone courts, floors, and stairways have been worn by busy 
feet. Everything is aged, ponderous, old-fashioned, and as 
we regard it from to-day's stand-point, — uncomfortable. The 
tables, chairs, windows, furniture, and utensils are of the rudest 
description. The buildings are ill arranged, the ceilings low, 
and there is a damp, unwholesome odor pervading the whole 
place. Yet it is a faithful preservation of a baronial hall, of 
Cromwell's age and before, kept as well as time will permit, 
and this is its great attraction. The buildings surround two 
court-yards, paved with large stones, and cover a space prob- 
ably three hundred feet front by two hundred feet deep. 
The entrance is by an arched gate into the first court-yard, 
outside of which is the low thatched cottage used as a porter's 
lodge. To get to this gate the visitor toils up a rather steep 
hill, and passes on the way two remarkable yew-trees, — one 
cut to resemble the peacock of Manners, the other, the boar's 
head of Vernon. There are scores of apartments inside, — 
bauquuting-rooms, a chapel, chambers, a prison, and rooms for 



86 A HOLIDAY TOUR. 

all sorts of domestic uses. The great hall is the Martindale 
Hall of " Peveril of the Peak." Once in a great while the 
old hall is lighted up for a ball, and to such a use it had been 
put by the Derbyshire volunteers to celebrate their disband- 
ment from service, the night before I visited it. Hence it was 
redolent with the stale fumes of beer and tobacco, which prob- 
ably were about the same as those left after a roust two or three 
centuries ago when PI addon was in full glory, but this rather 
took the romance out of Haddon of the present day. 

When this baronial hall was in its heyday a retinue of one 
hundred and forty servants was necessary to maintain it, but 
its glory departed when the Dukes of Rutland determined to 
change their home to the Castle of Belvoir, in Leicestershire. 
Yet the family faithfully maintain it as a relic of an age gone 
»y. In the journal of the British Archaeological Society it is 
recorded that portions of the buildings were constructed at 
various periods from 1070 to 1624, the most of them prior to 
1470. Here, then, we have carefully preserved a home which 
reproduces life in England prior to the discovery of America, 
showing much of the furniture, utensils, armor, etc., of that 
time. It was worthy a pilgrimage to see, and presented the 
sharpest contrast, in its quaintness and age, to the gorgeous 
modern glories of the palace on the other side of Rowsley. 

THE MODERN DUCAL PALACE. 

American readers, who care anything for British politics, 
will have frequently noticed the name of the Marquis of Hart- 
ington, one of the Liberal leaders in the House of Commons. 
The Marquis, if he lives long enough, will become the Duke 
of Devonshire, and succeed to one of the greatest estates in 
the kingdom. William Spencer Cavendish, his father, the 
Duke, is the owner of the finest palace in England, — Chats- 
worth, — one of the great show-houses of the realm, main 
tained as such at heavy expense to exhibit the glories of 
wealth and the pomp of titles. To be a rich duke is said to 
be the great aspiration of Englishmen ; for a half-dozen wealthy 
dukes, with a number of other noblemen, really govern the 
kingdom, and influence the Queen, whose worldly possessions 
they could probably buy without materially reducing their 
bankers' balances. Yet Chatsworth, with all its fame and 
grandeur, is said to be positively hated by the Duke, who pie- 



THE MODERN DUCAL PALACE. 87 

fers Barrow, in Yorkshire, a more comfortable home of less 
pretensions, whilst the Marquis, his heir, very rarely visits it. 
But it is, nevertheless, maintained in costly splendor, if not to 
please its owner, at least to gratify the thousands of visitors 
who daily pour through the park and house and gardens. 

Chatsworth has been written of by Scott as the " Palace of 
the Peak," for it stands not very far distant from that remark- 
able limestone formation known as the Peak of Derbyshire. 
The chief part of the palace is about one hundred and eighty 
years old, but an extensive wing was added fifty years ago. 
It stands in a park covering over two thousand acres, the walls 
surrounding which extend over a circuit of eleven miles. The 
Derwent flows in front, with a lawn gently sloping up to the 
buildings, behind which sharply rises a wooded hill, crowned 
with a tower embosomed in trees, over which a flag floats 
whenever the Duke is at home. In the midst of busy, crowded 
England, two thousand acres of lawn and woods can thus, by 
the peculiar custom of the country, be emparked for the benefit 
of a herd of deer, which were wandering over it in detached 
parties. There are about a thousand of them in the park, 
and there were also some cows and sheep feeding, which be- 
longed to the Duke's tenantry outside the park, but the land 
is never planted with a crop, and so it has been kept for cen- 
turies. It may all be very well to do this to add to the glory 
of a show-house, but Englishmen frequently ponder as to the 
use of it, — two thousand acres of idle land in a country that 
has to send to America for food. Yet it is only one instance 
of many of similar em parking. 

The palace is of a brownish-yellow, a square flat-topped 
house, with a modern and more ornate wing. It is of vast 
size, fronting at least six hundred feet, and in parts is of prob- 
ably equal depth. Like all such structures, it consists of 
masses of buildings around court-yards. It contains some of 
the most magnificent apartments in the kingdom, — rich in 
every decoration. As you go from one room to another and 
look at the paintings, sculpture, mosaics, carvings, gildings, 
rich furniture, magnificent vistas of view, and see all that 
money and art can produce in the decoration of the house, 
you wonder if there can be any limit to the purse of the man 
who, with his ancestors, has piled up all this splendor. Yet 
the place is too magnificent. In some respects it is gaudy, — ■ 



88 A HOLIDAY TOUR. 

too much ornamentation in too small a space, — and tlie grand- 
eur becomes dreary, so that you wander through the state 
apartments and do not marvel that the Duke is not enamored 
of this white elephant his ancestors have left him to maintain. 
The people troop through it, and gaze at all the grandeur, but 
few are envious. They do not want so much glory at such 
a price. It was the grandeur of Chatsworth that Edward 
Everett used to contrast with the " modest mansion on the 
banks of the Potomac," when that great orator in the later 
portion of his life devoted his talents to. the reclamation of 
Mount Vernon. 

The gardens are, to my mind, the gem of Chatsworth. 
Such apartments and such furnishing one may see elsewhere, 
but not such gardens. There are one hundred and twenty- 
two acres of these gardens around the palace, so arranged as 
to make a beautiful view out of every window. Everything 
that can add to rural beauty is here provided. There are 
fountains, cascades, waterfalls, lakes, running streams, rocks, 
woods, sylvan dells, and every possible thing that can enhance 
the attractions of flowers and trees and shrubbery. Sir Joseph 
Paxton, who was the Duke's head-gardener, and received a 
salary equal to that of the President of the United States, 
designed these gardens, built the great hot-house and con- 
servatories, and acquired such fame that he was afterwards 
selected to design the London Crystal Palace. He married 
the daughter of the Duke's housekeeper, which fortunate lady 
gave her one hundred thousand dollars dowry, and left her 
five hundred thousand dollars, all accumulated from the shil- 
lings and sixpences " tipped" her and her retinue of assistants 
by the thousands of visitors to the palace. The revenues are 
said to amount sometimes to two hundred and fifty dollars a 
day from this source, but they are no longer a perquisite, 
otherwise the housekeeper might some day be able to buy out 
the Duke. Now, the money taken in the house, I am told, is 
partly used to support the servants and keep it clean ; whilst 
the money taken in the gardens goes into a fund for the main- 
tenance of a large hospital. Such a little bit of history as 
this will show what there is in the business of " tipping," a 
curse of European, and fast becoming a curse of American, life. 

It would weary the reader to tell all there is in these gar- 
dens. The celebrated cascade flows from a stone temple, 



i 



LEAMINGTON. 89 

which it completely covers, down among dolphins, feea-lions, 
nymphs, etc., over a series of waterfalls, until it disappears 
among rocks and seeks an outlet underground into the Der- 
went. They have no weeping willows here, but have devised 
one, — a tree which, at the touch of a secret spring, weeps 
from every leaf and branch. Enormous stones, weighing 
tons, are nicely balanced, so as to swing as gates, or rock at 
the touch. Others overhang far above, as if a puff of wind 
would throw them down. The Emperor Fountain, so named 
in honor of the Czar's visit to Chats worth, throws a column 
of water two hundred and fifty feet high. Here is an oak five 
years old, which the Prince of Wales planted, and another 
planted by the Queen, when a Princess, in 1832. Scores of 
other trees are shown, planted by the great people of Europe; 
but the finest tree of all in this aggregation of fine trees, is a 
noble Spanish chestnut, of sixteen feet girth. The great 
botanical glory of Chatsworth, however, is the famous Victoria 
Regia, the seed of which was brought from Guiana, and first 
bloomed here in 1849. It grows in a tank thirty-four feet in 
diameter, the water being maintained at the proper tempera- 
ture and kept constantly in motion as a running stream. 

This great ducal palace and the baronial hall at Haddon 
show the present and past glory of England ; but it is only 
the enormous fortunes piled up by the system of entailing vast 
estates that can maintain such houses. I doubt whether either 
of the Dukes whose glory centres in these famous halls has a 
tithe of the happiness and content of the old lady in a neat 
white cap who presides over the modest house that lies 
between them, — the " Peacock Inn." 



LETTER XVII. 

LEAMINGTON. 



Leamington, August 10. 
The Royal Leamington Spa, in Warwickshire, is the great 
English saline spring, whither invalids come in large numbers 
to drink or bathe in its waters, and to participate in the dissi- 



90 A HOLIDAY TOUR. 

pations of a fashionable watering-place. The population duti- 
fully visit the "Royal Pump Rooms" every day, and then 
practice archery or battledore in the lovely Jephson gardens, 
■while the military band attached to the garrison discourses 
fine music, or else ride through the streets on tall bicycles as 
a proper preparation for dinner. These modern abominations 
on the highway are common in this very idle town, as well as 
elsewhere in the kingdom, and lank English youths turn 
sharply round corners and glide swiftly over the smooth road- 
way, to the dismay of the invalids who are hauled about in 
Bath chairs. Leamington is thus attractive now to the invalid 
and the idle, whilst later in the season it is the headquarters 
of the " Warwickshire hunt." one of the most famous in the 
kingdom, there being one hundred and forty hounds in this 
combination who are let loose after the unfortunate fox, whilst 
troops of red-coated squires jump hedges and ditches, and 
course across country after them. For the foreign visitor, 
however, Leamington has other and better attractions. It is 
a convenient point to fix as a base of operations for a visit to 
three of England's greatest curiosities, — Warwick, Kenil- 
worth, and Stratford, which are but a short distance out of 
the town. 

WARWICK. 

Warwick Castle, since I last saw it, has suffered from a 
severe fire, but the destroyed portions, which fortunately were 
the modern structures, have been restored, and the inestimable 
treasures they contained, which were not seriously injured by 
the fire, really present a much better appearance in their new 
quarters, and the whole Castle has put on a far more attractive 
guise. In Warwick, therefore, I was agreeably surprised, and 
can safely say that its range of new apartments fronting on the 
Avon exceed Chatsworth in glory, notwithstanding the grand- 
eur of that palace. These apartments contain priceless gems, 
in armor, furniture, and ornamentation, far exceeding Chats- 
worth's furnishing in value. I do not believe there is such 
another series of apartments in Europe, and the disposition of 
these gems sets them off to so much greater advantage that one 
is charmed with the view. The Castle is one of the best ex- 
hibitions of the feudal castle there is in England, and it occu- 
pies from every point of view a lovely position. Its grand 



KENIL WORTH. 91 

towers, its embattled walls, its spacious court-yard, its sloping 
gardens running down to the Avon River, giving the windows 
so beautiful a view, all command admiration. There is not at 
Warwick the dreary grandeur of Chatsworth, but it is com- 
fortable, homelike, and attractive, whilst its gems depend upon 
themselves for glory and not upon their setting. 

Guy of Warwick, the great giant, nine feet high, and his 
staff, and club, and sword, and armor, and exploits, I was told 
of, as before ; but the story of the prowess of this mythical 
personage is given in the porter's lodge, at the outer gate, and 
not in the Castle, — and, therefore, I, like the Earl of Warwick 
of the present day, may be permitted to doubt it. There is 
nothing doubtful, however, about the existence of the redoubt- 
able Guy's huge porridge-pot, which holds over one hundred 
gallons, and is used as a punch-bowl whenever there are re- 
joicings in the Castle. This huge bronze cauldron, weighing 
eight hundred pounds, stands in the porter's lodge, and sounds 
as clear as a bell when struck, just as it did ten years ago, 
though it is kept cleaner now than then. In fact, the great 
fire did a deal of good in furbishing up everything about 
Warwick Castle. The Castle had got into the condition of a 
certain building at Third and Chestnut Streets, which, in 
former days, was only cleaned when it caught fire and the en- 
gines deluged it with water. I hope, however, that the gray 
towers of Warwick may never be in danger again. It is too 
precious a relic, and contains too much of the olden time that 
cannot be replaced. Its destruction would bring sadness to 
the " Malt Shovel Inn," and the Warwick tailor, who announces 
on his sign that he is " breeches-maker to the Warwickshire 
gentry ;" and to the old pensioners in that quaint building, 
Leicester Hospital ; and to all the people who cluster about 
the ancient gateways and old gabled houses of the town and 
have so long looked up in reverence to the home of Guy and 
Nevil, the Kingmaker. No title in England has in its day 
had more renown than that of the Earl of Warwick, though 
the present incumbents, the Grevilles, had little to do with its 
fame. 

KENILWORTH. 

In Warwick Castle was once the home of Dudley, Earl of 
Warwick, known as the "good earl," who was the brother of 



92 A HOLIDAY TOUR 

the famous Leicester, Queen Elizabeth's favorite, about whom 
there has been probably more romance writteu than about any 
other Englishman. All that is left of Leicester now, besides 
the ruins of Kenilworth, is his tomb in St. Mary's Church, 
near Warwick Castle. There lies his effigy with hands pointed 
to heaven and folded together, and beside him lies his third 
wife in similar position. He is in armor, she in the latest 
fashion. An elegant tomb supports and covers these figures, 
whilst the corpses lie beneath the pavement. All that re- 
mains of the proud Leicester, and of a half-dozen other noble- 
men of his time, is now exhibited there to the curiosity-seeker 
by a young woman for a shilling " tip." Kenilworth, which 
is the subject of so much romance and the object of so many 
pilgrimages, is a pile of well-preserved yet decayed ruins over- 
run with ivy, an occasional grand window, a gateway and 
towers, and a general mass of dilapidation surrounding the 
green sward of the court-yard, being what remains of the 
most splendid palace of Queen Elizabeth's day. There has 
been some restoration going on recently, and an attempt at 
clearing away rubbish, but the hand of time is evidently lying 
heavily on this famous ruin. 

STRATFORD-ON-AVON. 

The Avon that flows by Warwick is the Avod that Shak- 
speare has made famous, and no American could pass within 
reach of Stratford without making a call there, even though 
the Stratford inns, as I find to my cost, give poorer refresh- 
ments for a higher price than any others in England, unless 
it be those at Kenilworth. But cost what it might, the visit 
had to be made. I will not attempt any description of what 
has been told ten thousand times over about Shakspeare's 
birthplace and tomb. The old house where he was born is 
still exhibited for a sixpence admission fee, as likewise is the 
church where he is buried, this system being far better than 
the " tipping" expected at " free" exhibitions elsewhere. The 
most remarkable feature of the old house is the success with 
which the public have managed to write their names all over 
it, and cover every particle of space on walls and ceilings with 
their initials, even including the scribbling all over a bust of 
the immortal bard exhibited there. This writing has in later 
years been stopped, however, though the names of the mil- 



STRA TFORD- ON- A VON. 93 

lions who did it prior to 18G0 are carefully preserved, to the 
exclusion probably of many later visitors better deserving of 
such fame. I had thought this scribbling propensity an 
American vice, but an inspection shows it to be world-wide 
in Shakspeare's case. The writing is by people of all nations, 
though the Americans generally did the boldest characters, as 
if putting their initials there " to stay." There is nothing 
to see in the house that has any proved connection with 
Shakspeare, excepting a portrait said to have been painted 
when he was about thirty-five, and vouched for as authentic. 
This portrait is kept in a fire-proof safe. The sign of the 
butcher who did business in the building before it was pur- 
chased by the Trust now holding it is also exhibited, and 
announces that "The immortal Shakspeare was born in this 
house." 

Of the house where Shakspeare died nothing is left. It was 
pulled down, and a green arbor in a yard, with the initials of 
his name set into the fence in front, is all that now marks the 
spot. The church where Shakspeare is buried is by far the 
most interesting relic. It is the Church of the Holy Trinity, 
and five flat stones in a row across the chancel, which is about 
twenty-five feet in width, cover the graves of Shakspeare's 
family, Anne Hathaway, his wife, lying next the left-hand 
wall ; then he alongside her, and then their relatives. His 
monument is on the wall almost over Anne Hathaway's tomb, 
whilst almost over it, and, in fact, the nearest window to the 
tomb, is the American memorial window, now in process of 
construction. The window, which is highly prized by the 
townspeople, is constructed by American subscriptions of 
pennies and half-pence dropped in a box beneath it, and will 
cost about twelve hundred and fifty dollars. It represents the 
seven ages of man, — five panes being already completed and 
set up in the window. These are (1) the Infant, represented 
by Moses ; (2) the Scholar, by Samuel before Eli ; (3) the 
Lover, by Jacob and Rachel ; (4) the Warrior, by Joshua ; 
(5) the Judge, by Deborah ; (6) the Old Man, by Abraham ; 
and (7) the Very Old Man, by Jacob blessing Ephraim and 
Manasseh. The Judge and the Very Old Man are yet to be 
placed in the window. The most imposing building in Strat- 
ford is the " Shakspeare Memorial," which is fast approaching 
completion. The main portion is almost finished, but the 



94 A HOLIDAY TOUR. 

tower is yet to be built. It is a large and will be a highly 
ornamental structure, emblematic, and thoroughly worthy of 
the memory which will do it honor. 



LETTER XVIII. 

A SUNDAY IN LONDON. 

London, August 12. 

Like Philadelphia, London pays all possible respect to the 
Sabbath. It is the characteristic of the English in contra- 
distinction to the French people, that Sunday is kept sacred 
to holy duties. In Paris the shops are open on Sunday, and 
the opera and theatres give their grandest performances, the 
chief elections are held, and the great horse-races take place 
at Chantilly and in the Bois de Boulogne. Paris devotes 
Sunday to just those things which England and America 
would think least appropriate to the day ; but London keeps 
Sunday as closely as Philadelphia, almost all the population 
^.oing to church or taking innocent recreation in the afternoon 
in the parks or suburbs. Consequently the London Sunday, 
with the stores closed, the streets almost deserted, except by 
church-goers, and all the church-bells ringing, has a close 
lesemblance to an American Sabbath. At this time so many 
American clergymen are in England, particularly of the Epis- 
copal Church, whose great Conference has just closed, that 
mauy of the pulpits are being filled with my countrymen, and 
at the two great churches of London, St. Paul's Cathedral and 
Westminster Abbey, American bishops preached the sermons 
yesterday. In England a bishop is always a " lord bishop," 
so that on making the inquiry at St. Paul's I was informed 
that the " Lord Bishop of Nebraska" was preaching the ser- 
mon, and was given a printed notice, announcing that the 
" Lord Bishop of Pittsburg" would preach the sermon there 
next Sunday morning. I hope the laity of Western Pennsyl- 
vania will properly appreciate the honor done their prelate. 

I went to church twice yesterday, in the morning at St. 
Paul's and in the afternoon at Westminster Abbey. It is no 



A SUNDAY IN LONDON. 95 

common privilege to attend service in these two wonderful 
buildings, and it will, I hope, condone for occasional failures 
in church-going at home, such as afflict the journalist. St. 
Paul's, with its vast interior space, filled with the sunlight 
from its grand windows, contained probably ten thousand 
people under its great dome and in the adjacent portions of 
the nave and transepts. The service was solemn and impress- 
ive, though it was impossible to distinguish the words in the 
chaunting, intoning, or singing, on account of the great dis- 
tances within the building and the echo. Yet this echo won- 
derfully increased the impressive solemnity of the music, and 
made the service one of the greatest I have ever heard. In 
England everything is intoned, and it is, therefore, impossible, 
with these echoes, to follow what is said ; but the service, never- 
theless, addresses itself most deeply to the imagination, and 
the organ music swells and reverberates through the grand 
old Cathedral in a way almost unknown to us at home. The 
sermon, however, could be distinctly heard, possibly because 
preached from a pulpit located under the dome, and near the 
centre of the church ; but also owing its distinctness to the 
clear enunciation of the preacher. 

There is, however, a sharp contrast between this London 
and a Philadelphia congregation in the irreverence shown. 
With us it is the height of indecorum to move about in 
church during the service. But here, in St. Paul's, the con- 
gregation was most restless and uneasy. People were con- 
stantly coming in or going out, moving about from one part 
of the congregation to another, changiug seats and walking 
around the portion of the Cathedral unoccupied by chairs. 
At every lull there could be heard the pattering of scores of 
feet, and yet the clergyman went on, as if accustomed to what 
would with us have brought down a stern rebuke from the 
pulpit. It looked as if a large portion of the congregation 
had only dropped in while sight-seeing, and sat down a few 
moments to rest, getting up again and moving off when it 
suited them, without regard to what was going on. I could 
well understand why placards were hung up about the Cathe- 
dral, imploring visitors to keep quiet during divine service. 
Whilst the service was thus grandly solemn, the uneasy, rest- 
less spirit shown by the congregration detracted greatly from 
its sacredness, especially as, whether the service was prayer of 



9G A HOLIDAY TOUR. 

praise, hymn, creed, or absolution, the restlessness was the 
same. But there must be something pardoned to the weak- 
ness of mortality. Here is a church filled with grand tombs 
and memorials, — one of the great sights of England. How 
can one keep from gazing at the tomb of the Duke of Welling- 
ton, or up into the great dome, or through the vast vista over 
the chancel, and in the awe-struck spirit thus inspired forget 
for the moment what is going on ! The irreverent restlessness 
ought, however, to be stopped if St. Paul's is to be maintained 
as a pattern house of worship. 

At Westminster Abbey they have learned better how to 
deal with this difficulty. This church exceeds any other in 
the world in its famous tombs and memorials, and its attrac- 
tions for visitors. Days will not suffice for its close inspection ; 
and, knowing how the mind wanders, the Sunday service is 
confined to the transept, the nave beiDg railed off and kept 
closed whilst the service is going on. This crowds the congre- 
gation into a comparatively small space, and, this being filled, 
the people cannot move about if they would. Hence, although 
there is every inclination to wander, it is a physical impossi- 
bility, excepting for the eyes. The Abbey, like St. Paul's, on 
account of its size, produces the same effect on the service. 
It is as grandly impressive, the music swelling and echoing 
through the lofty vaulted roof, though the intonation and 
singing are practically undistinguishable. But the reverence 
and solemn stillness of the vast congregation were as marked 
as the irreverence at St. Paul's. The eyes would wander, — for 
with the memorials of Britain's greatest heroes, statesmen, 
poets, and authors around you, how could the eyes keep still ? 
But the feet were quiet, and the ears lent attention to the 
service. It was certainly to me one of the greatest religious 
services I ever attended, — the place adding impressiveness to 
the ceremonial. 

Westminster Abbey is filled with the tombs and memorials 
of the princes, heroes, and great men of Britain in every walk 
of life. There is method in their arrangement. In 1400 
the poet Chaucer was buried in the south transept, and that 
portion of the Abbey has been since devoted to literary men, 
and is known as the Poets' Corner. The north transept is 
devoted to statesmen and warriors, the first distinguished 
burial here being that of the Earl of Chatham, the elder Pitt, 



i 



A SUNDAY IN LONDON. 97 

who died in 1778. The organ stands in the north side of the 
nave, and here the eminent musicians repose. In the side 
chapels are buried the great nobles, and in the chancel and its 
adjoining chapels the kings and princes, the most noteworthy 
and elaborate tombs being those of St- Edward the Confessor, 
Henry VII., and Mary, Queen of Scots. Isaac Newton, in 
1727, was the first scientist buried in the nave, and that portion 
is devoted to distinguished scientific men, humanitarians, and 
other similar classes. There are several things in the Abbey 
which more particularly attract the attention of Americans. One 
of these is the tomb of Major John Andre, whose remains were 
brought here from Tappan, New York, where they had been 
buried for many years after the Revolution. Another is the 
magnificent monument to the Earl of Chatham, the first great 
statesman buried in the Abbey, and the friend of the Ameri- 
can colonies during the Revolution. This tomb, which stands 
on the right hand as the visitor enters the north transept, is 
one of the finest in the Abbey, and upon it is the inscription : 
" Erected by the King and Parliament as a testimony to the 
virtues and ability of William Pitt, Earl of Chatham, during 
whose administration, in the reigns of George II. and George 
III., Divine Providence exalted Great Britain to a height of 
prosperity and glory unknown to any former age." This tomb 
was erected in May, 1778. 

The memorial window erected by Mr. George W. Childs is 
also eagerly sought for by Americans visiting the Abbey. 
There are not as many stained-glass windows in the church as 
there are windows of ordinary glass. Out of the twenty-two 
stained-glass windows, I could find altogether only three 
memorial windows which were so marked, two alongside of 
each other, on the north side of the nave, erected to Locke 
and Stephenson, and the other to which I have referred on the 
south side. Excepting these three, the entire stretch of the 
nave on both sides contains only ordinary glass windows. Mr. 
Childs's gift is in two parts, — or, as it were, two complete 
windows, one in memory of Herbert and the other of Cowper. 
It is the extreme western window on the south side of the 
nave, and is in the baptistery, somewhat secluded on account of 
the high tombs standing in front, and the stone arched railing 
separating the baptistery from the nave, but pouring a rich 
flood of mellow light over them. The window is a high one, 
e 9 



98 A HOLIDAY TOUR. 

aud is a fine piece of work, greatly admired. The Dean and 
Chapter desire to encourage the enriching of the Abbey with 
stained glass. 

One of the greatest curiosities in the Abbey is the corona- 
tion chair. It is in the chapel of St. Edward the Confessor, 
which contains the tomb of that sainted king, around which 
to within a twelvemonth it was the custom of crowds of pious 
devotees to kneel, until it was stopped by the absolute necessity 
of preventing such adorations, which were frequently made the 
cover for carrying off pieces of the tomb once inlaid with 
precious stones, most of which have been purloined. In this 
chapel, which is a sort of eastern extension of the chancel, 
two ancient, high-backed chairs stand on the western side. 
In their present positions these chairs are immediately behind 
the grand altar of the Abbey. They have hard wooden seats, 
are most unpretentious in appearance, and are probably as un- 
comfortable chairs as any one ever sat in. The one on th& 
left as you face them is the famous coronation chair, in which 
every sovereign of England has been crowned since Edward I. 
The one on the right was made in imitation of this at the time 
of William and Mary, when it was necessary to have two chairs, 
both king and queen being crowned and vested with equal au- 
thority. As these chairs staud to-day they are, as it were, 
guarded by several monarchs in death, for the kings of Eng- 
land lie entombed all around them. At the next coronation 
they will be brought out covered with gold tissue, and one or 
both of them will be placed before the altar in the centre of the 
chancel, prepared for crowning the Prince of Wales, should 
he live so long. The coronation chair has fastened under its 
wooden seat the celebrated Stone of Scone, on which all the mon- 
archs of England, and previously of Scotland, sat for crowning. 

This dark-looking, old, rough and worn-edged stone is about 
two feet square and six or eight inches thick. It is said to 
have been a piece of Jacob's pillar, and all sorts of legendary 
tales are told of it. Such is the reverence of royalty for it 
that I suppose the next monarch of England could not be 
crowned if this stone, on which all have sat for six hundred 
years, were missing ; but it looks as if it had been purloined 
from some old wall, and was yet covered with almost black 
dirt. Edward I. brought this famous stone from Scotland, 
where many generations had done it reverence, and in 1297 






A SUNDAY IN LONDON. 99 

the old chair was made to contain it. And such a looking 
old chair! The wood has grown black with time, and in every 
part of it the energetic Briton has carved his name. This 
carving and cutting of rude initials has covered it all over, — 
seat, sides, back, arms, legs, and rounds. Some of the names 
are in full, and when the Prince sits there at his coronation, 
he will press upon the signs manual (made by a knife) of any 
number of his own and his ancestors' subjects. The most 
prominent name upon it is " F. Abbott," whoever he may be. 
I could also detect the names of " Sheppard" and " Bourk," 
whilst " J. Smith" stands out in bold characters, but he 
neglected to inform an anxious world whether he was the 
immortal " John." Some of these names have old dates at- 
tached to them ; one was as early as 1718. 

There is certainly a short step from the sublime to the ridic- 
ulous. Here is this ancient chair which has encompassed 
the royalty of Britain for six hundred years, and has been the 
chief agent in the grandest pageants of the monarchy ; yet, 
instead of its being marked with the royal names of those 
who sat there, their subjects have most ridiculously covered 
it with their names carved by inexpert hands, mostly in 
shocking bad characters. This sort of thing went on to 
such an extent that recently guards had to be placed over 
these chairs, and now lynx-eyed vergers closely watch them. 
" Whose names are these ?" I asked of one of the guardians. 
" Henybody's ; heverybody's," he replied ; " but they haint 
doing it henny more," and then he told me that if that par- 
ticular portion of the Abbey were not closely guarded, the 
public would probably not stop with cutting their names, 
" but carry hoff the chairs haltogether." Westminster Abbey 
is the Collegiate Church of St. Peter, and among the latest 
tombs placed there is that of Lady Augusta Stanley, wife of 
Dean Stanley, whose long service to the Abbey has brought 
him much renown. 



100 A HOLIDAY TOUR. 

LETTER XIX. 

THE UNDERGROUND RAILWAY. 

London, August 14. 
To an American, the method of rapid transit adopted in 
London is one of the great sights of the city, and, although 
portions of the Underground Railway have been in operation 
for several years, the system is still being extended and con- 
stantly becomes more complete and useful. It is simply an 
impossibility for cabs, omnibuses, or any of the ordinary means 
of locomotion, to successfully overcome the great distances be- 
tween the centre and circumference of London. They take 
too much time, and were reliance to be solely placed upon 
them the streets would be so crowded that it would be im- 
possible for any one to move with any celerity. For twenty 
years at least London has been endeavoring to improve her 
means of transit between the business section or " The City," 
as it is called, and the suburbs. New streets have been cut, 
viaducts built, improved pavements laid, and all sorts of out- 
lets provided, but there has been nothing which gave so much 
general satisfaction as the construction of the Underground 
Railway. There are over ten thousand cabs and two thousand 
omnibuses in London, besides private coaches used for popular 
conveyance, and were it not for this railway they would not 
begin to accommodate the public. Probably two million people 
daily require conveyances of some sort in London, which, in 
addition to its own millions, has always a vast floating popu- 
lation. The cabs and omnibuses find abundant occupation, 
and as they grew in numbers, together with the vast aggre- 
gation of vans, wagons, and trucks 3 the problem was how to 
provide room for them to move about. As London was ten 
years ago, the avenues between the City and West End were 
almost unable to accommodate the vast mass of moving ve- 
hicles, whilst the problem is yet unsolved how to increase the 
capacity of London Bridge to carry its moving stream over the 
Thames. To increase the road-surface leading westward out 
of the City the fine new Holborn Viaduct was built, which 



THE UNDERGROUND RAILWAY. 101 

gives a broad road to Oxford Street and its line of streets 
leading westward, whilst Fleet Street and the Strand, also lead- 
ing westward near the Thames, were relieved by constructing 
an entirely new street from the Mansion House, in the City, 
to the Parliament Houses, in Westminster. This new street 
was cut through the heart of London from the Mansion House 
to the Thames at Blackfriars Bridge, this portion being known 
as Queen Victoria Street ; and then it was run westward, a 
noble street along the river, known as the Victoria Embank- 
ment. A grand carriage-way running between rows of trees, 
with broad sidewalks and an ornamental stone balustrade 
on the river-side, forms the surface, whilst beneath runs the 
Underground Railway. These new constructions cost mil- 
lions of money, but they gave London two new streets, each 
almost as wide as our Broad Street, leading from the heart 
of the city to the West End, and thus provided needed 
relief. It is now possible to avoid the "jams" that formerly 
occurred, whilst the steam facilities for transportation have 
probably put a limit to the increase in the numbers of cabs 
and omnibuses. London, in the portion served by the Under- 
ground Railway, does not incline to street railways, and, in 
fact, the distances are too great for horse-cars to satisfactorily 
overcome them. There is still, however, the unsolved prob- 
lem of London Bridge. It is the easternmost bridge over the 
Thames, yet it crosses only in the heart of the city. The 
commerce of London will not permit the river to be bridged 
below it, so London Bridge, therefore, has to carry all the 
centre and east end traffic across the Thames, and do the work 
that half a dozen bridges above it do for the West End. It 
is on week-days a grand moving mass of vehicles and human- 
ity, — one stream north, the other south. The police are busy 
keeping everybody and everything moving. Four lines of ve- 
hicles pass over the bridge, two each way. The outer lines go 
at a walk ; the inner at a trot. Thus the heavy and light 
traffic is assorted before going on the bridge, and the capacity 
is increased by adopting this plan. But whether to widen the 
bridge or build another, London is undecided. The only solu- 
tion of the problem seems to be to roof over this portion of 
the Thames. 

The original idea of the Underground Railway seems to have 
been to connect the various stations of the railways leading 

9* 



102 A HOLIDAY TOUR. 

out of town. This and the furnishing of means of rapid 
transit within the City were combined, and resulted in the 
construction of the Metropolitan Railway across the northern 
part of the city, connecting one steam railway station with 
another. By this means seven stations, the termini of the 
great railroads leading west, north, and east through the king- 
dom, were connected. The line was opened by sections, and 
was so successful that it was extended both ways. Its eastern 
end was turned southeast through the heart of the City to 
Aldgate, on the eastern side of the business portion, whilst 
the western end was divided into various lines, extending be- 
yond Paddington, through the extreme West End. These 
lines worked so successfully that another corporation, the 
Metropolitan District Railway, began construction at a later 
period, and going west from the Mansion House, and along 
the Thames Embankment, ran its line past Westminster Abbey 
and Victoria Station, until it joined the other in Kensington, 
and then extended farther westward to the suburbs of Ham- 
mersmith, Kew, and Richmond, on the Upper Thames. This 
District Railway, besides giving a direct line out of the city, 
also connected all the stations, on the north side of the 
Thames, of the railways leading south, southeast, and south- 
west, whilst the junction of the two practically connected the 
whole out-of-town railway system. The Underground Rail- 
way thus makes an irregular ellipse, open at its eastern end, 
and as all the lines and branches are run in unison, the system 
is practically that of one company. To complete it the portion 
between the Mansion House and Aldgate, in the heart of the 
City, is yet to be constructed, and when this is done the ellipse 
will be complete. The route for this has been surveyed, the 
line giving a broad sweep farther east, so as to take in an 
additional portion of that section, and last week the Metro- 
politan Board of Works authorized the construction, and work 
is at once to begin. When this is done the underground cir- 
cuit of London will be complete. These lines, it should be 
understood, are all north of the Thames. The city south of 
the river is as yet unprovided with this convenience. 

The Underground Railway is in all portions a double-track 
railway. Trains, keeping to the left, run all around the city 
from the Mansion House to Aldgate, and vice versa. Thus 
the passenger can go anywhere he wishes by following the cir- 



THE UNDERGROUND RAILWAY. 103 

cuit around. Other trains run from both the termini men- 
tioned, out the various extensions at the West End bevond 
Paddington and Kensington. For the out-of-town railways, 
this system provides each with some fifteen or twenty sub-sta- 
tions, at which their passengers can buy tickets and begin the 
journey; and likewise on coming into London the passengers 
can at will land at any of the underground stations. Here at 
once is a vast relief to the cabs and omnibuses, as these sta- 
tions are located at intervals of a half-mile, and sometimes less, 
along the underground routes. All the stations are large and 
roomy, with fine entrances from the streets above, and plenty 
of light below, as they are generally open to the daylight. The 
tickets are punched on entering the station, and are taken up 
on leaving it, thus avoiding any necessity for ticket examina- 
tion on the trains. The trains run every three minutes ; long 
trains, capable of carrying three hundred to four hundred pas- 
sengers ; and at the busier parts of the day they run as quickly 
as they can be despatched. In its practical operation the waits 
are no longer than for a Philadelphia horse-car. Each train, 
as it comes towards the station, has on the front of the engine, 
in bold letters, the name of the terminus towards which it is 
going, — the Mansion House, or Aldgate, or the various branch 
lines, such as Hammersmith or Richmond, so that the pas- 
senger has no difficulty in determining whether it is the right 
train. This is also aided by different arrangement of lights on 
the front of the engine for each train. The cars are divided 
into the three classes usual on English railways, and the fares 
are very cheap. The great convenience of the lines is shown 
by my own experience. Since I have been in London I have 
seldom used any other vehicle in going about. Whatever di- 
rection or whatever great building I desired to reach, the most 
convenient route was sure to be the Underground Railway. I 
am staying in the West End, four miles away from the centre, 
— say at Blackfriars, — yet I can make the journey in fifteen 
minutes, at a cost of eight, ten, or twelve cents, according to 
the class I take. I presume that one-half the moving popu- 
lation in London goes on the Underground Railway, and it is 
such a perfect solution of the " rapid transit" problem for the 
city, that, excepting in the case of London Bridge, that prob- 
lem is no longer discussed. 

This railway has been the costliest in the world, and a con- 



104 A HOLIDAY TOUR. 

siderable part of the cost has been defrayed by subsidies from the 
public funds. Thus, for the completion of the circuit which I 
have referred to above as having just been authorized, the Board 
of Public Works voted a large subsidy, and gave orders to pay 
over two hundred thousand dollars immediately, as the first in- 
stalment. Large loans also provide the means, and there is a 
heavy share capital besides. Sir John Hawkshaw seems to be 
the principal engineer in planning and constructing the works. 
They are underground railways only in the sense of being con- 
structed at a level lower than that of the city, but are not a 
continuous tunnel. On the contrary, they are sometimes 
through open cuttings and sometimes on the level of the ground. 
They are a succession of tunnels, sometimes very deep, going 
far down when it is necessary to go under some great sewer, 
or under another railway. Thus, beyond Paddington, where 
the Great Western Railway comes into London, the underground 
railway runs alongside and on a level with the other at West- 
bourne Park, and then gradually sinks, goes under, and comes up 
on the other side at Paddington again to a level with the Great 
Western Railway. The underground lines turn sharp curves and 
have considerable gradients. Their routes are pursued without 
regard to street lines on the surface above, often passing diag- 
onally under blocks of houses. One of the lines passes almost 
under the room in which I sleep, and I can hear the suppressed 
rumbling of the trains, but it is not unpleasant, and by no 
means as loud as the passing of a cab in the street. The con- 
struction of these underground lines, besides its enormous cost, 
has taxed engineering ingenuity to the utmost. Huge build- 
ings have been undermined, and their foundations removed, 
and have had to be held up by enormous arched walls and 
girders. I have looked with wonder at some of these con- 
structions, where the cellar has been devoted to the railway, 
and immense iron beams have been let in to hold up the 
houses. At Blackfriars, where there is a large underground 
station, the arches sprung over it, and the beams and pillars 
constructed, have not only to hold up the line of the London, 
Chatham and Dover Railway, which crosses there, but also two 
streets leading from Blackfriars Bridge, across the Thames, and a 
huge six-story storehouse. Every sort of beam, girder, retain- 
ing wall, arch, pillar, column, buttress, and support that can be 
devised is used in thus holding up the structures tunnelled under, 






SOME LONDON SKETCHES. 105 

and, wherever possible, openings are made to the daylight 
There has also been much ingenuity shown in carrying sewers, 
water- and gas-pipes across and along these lines, siphons being 
frequently adopted. The system is the slow growth of years, 
and as it progressed solved its own difficulties. The travelling 
on these lines is pleasanter than is usually the case in going 
through tunnels, for the engines consume all their own smoke, 
and there are no dirt and cinders to fly into the car windows. 
The cars are so well lighted that all the passengers read their 
newspapers the same as on surface railways. Thus has London 
successfully solved its problem of rapid transit, at enormous 
cost it is true, but to the public satisfaction. 



LETTER XX. 

SOME LONDON SKETCHES. 

London, August 16. 
Most of the great sights of the metropolis are well known 
by reputation in America, but there are others that are not so 
well known, and it may be interesting to devote a few lines to 
some of these. Most visitors go into that ancient building 
around which clusters the honors of the city, and within which 
the civic dignitaries eat their feasts, — the Guildhall, — and view 
the two Brobdignagian statues of Gog and Magog. These 
uncouth beings are supposed to preside over the destinies of 
London, and they stand up in the gallery where the band 
plays at the feasts. Most visitors also stand in the street 
known as the Poultry, and in front of them look upon the 
Bank of England and the Boyal Exchange, with Threadneedle 
Street between, and Lombard Street on the right hand, and 
think that this is the region which controls the monetary 
affairs of the world. Then turning round to look at the Man- 
sion House (the Lord Mayor's residence), behind them they 
see the centre of the city government. Crossing over and 
passing through the Exchange, they find its rear to be that 
mysterious institution known as " Lloyds," where the marine 
insurances are underwritten, and risks of millions are taken 

E* 



106 A HOLIDAY TOUR. 

every day. They also gaze at the buildings of the Goldsmiths* 
Company, and the Merchant Taylors' Company, and the Fish- 
mongers' Company, the headquarters of guilds that are rolling 
in wealth, and that seem to have little else in view but feast- 
ing. Then they wander through the little crooked streets of 
the old City, each with a famous name and history, and get 
lost in the maze. They go down to London Bridge to watch 
the mass of moving humanity crossing it, and on the way stop 
at the Fire Monument erected on Fish Street Hill, to mark 
where the great fire in London, over two hundred years ago, 
stopped, and endeavor to read the inscription upon it, — but 
being in Latin, this is difficult for the untutored American 
mind, and, therefore, refuge is had in reading the only in- 
scription on this grand monument in plain English, which in 
bold letters announces that the practice so long pursued of 
beating and cleaning mats and carpets against the monument 
must be stopped. They take a boat-ride on the Thames, under 
the bridges and past the shipping, and up and down the very 
crooked, dirty, swift-flowing river, which bears so great a com- 
merce ; they look at the grand semi-circular sweep of the 
Victoria Embankment, with the Temple and Inns of Court 
behind its eastern portion, and the broad front of Somerset 
House rising above its western portion ; and then at West- 
minster upon the noblest scene of the river, — St. Thomas' 
Hospital, with its groups of buildings upon the one bank, and 
the Houses of Parliament, with their noble front and great 
towers, upon the other, — the finest building of London. The 
visitor goes to Hyde Park to see the equipages ; to the Zoo- 
logical Garden to see the animals and promenade on Sunday 
afternoons ; to South Kensington for the great Museum, and 
probably to Billingsgate on Saturday morning to see the fish 
handled and learn rhetoric ; or to Smith field, where the rail- 
way brings through a tunnelled line all the dead meat that 
feeds London, and it is hauled up to the great new market 
above to be sold. The visitor, if an American, is also very 
likely to go to that peculiar British institution, the Heralds' 
College, for I am told it gets its chief support from the liberal 
fees paid by Americans who seek crests and coats-of-arms to 
take home to astonish their neighbors. But most of these 
things, and many more, are the well-known sights of London, 
and too much written about to need repetition. 



CLEOPATRA'S NEEDLE. 107 



CLEOPATRA S NEEDLE. 



Of some other things, however, matter that is new may be 
written. Cleopatra's Needle and its eventful journey to Lon- 
don are familiar themes, but it may not be so well known that 
all the cost of bringing this huge obelisk to England and set- 
ting it up in the metropolis is defrayed by two public -spirited 
citizens, John Dixon and Professor Erasmus Wilson. This 
stone weighs one hundred and eighty tons, is over sixty-eight 
feet long, and tapers from about seven feet square at the base 
to between four and five feet near the apex, which is then 
sharpened to a blunt point. It is a coarse granite, with gray 
and red grains intermixed, and is covered all over with large 
hieroglyphics, some of them five or six feet long and quite 
rudely carved. All the edges of the stone seem more or less 
injured by abrasion, whilst the base is partially rounded. It 
is intended to be set upon the outer balustrade of the Thames 
Embankment, midway between the Charing Cross and Water- 
loo Bridges. A low pedestal has been prepared for it, and it 
has been lifted by hydraulic power out of the vessel that trans- 
ported it, and thence moved back over the embankment until 
it now lies horizontally on its supports, over the position it is 
to occupy. The Needle is yet to be lifted up and swung into 
position, so that it will stand upright. To do this a wooden 
scaffold and derrick of great strength are being erected, 
whilst a semicircular shoe of iron is being fitted on the base 
of the Needle. It will be gradually lifted upright by hy- 
draulic power, great care being taken lest it should break. 
The process will be slow and laborious, but there are no fears 
of its failure, as excessive care is taken to guard against acci- 
dents. England has been endeavoring to get this obelisk re- 
moved since the beginning of the present century. When, in 
1801, the English conquered the French in Egypt they were 
given the Needle, but endeavored in vain to remove it. A 
week's hard work only moved it six inches. But it was suc- 
cessfully carried orT by the improved appliances of the present 
day, and will soon be one of the great sights in London, stand- 
ing in an excellent position for its exhibition.* 



* Cleopatra's Needle was successfully swung into position a few weeks 
after this letter was written. 



108 A HOLIDAY TOUR. 



THE BANK OF ENGLAND. 

Few visitors go inside the Bank, or pass beyond its interior 
portals. Yet the Bank contains a mine of wondrous informa- 
tion, and its vast stores of money make impecunious fingers 
tingle. Here are machines weighing with the nicety of a hair ; 
machines that automatically separate the good coins from those 
of short weight; printing-machines of exquisite finish, for 
making the notes; electro-plates, from which the notes are 
printed, and curious mechanisms for constructing the cloths 
by which the very effective water-mark is put in the Bank 
note-paper, which is the main reliance for preventing counter- 
feiting and forgery. You are shown great stores of gold and 
notes, and for once are made rich by being permitted to hold 
in your hand, at one time, five million dollars, though the 
vanity of earthly riches is at the same time taught by the 
celerity with which all these millions slip through your fingers 
— and back into the vault. You are shown great rooms full of 
money, with gold a perfect drug, — piled up in ingots, hauled 
around on trucks, carted about in kegs, and shovelled from one 
place to another, like so much coal. My eyes were allowed 
to look upon an accumulation of ninety million dollars of gold 
coin and bullion, but I could not carry any of it off. I was 
offered a sack if I could lift it, but it seemed fastened to the 
floor. Picking up a little twenty-pound ingot, I was told to 
beware lest it fell, and an attendant who was limping about in 
a slipper said that one of them, of value equal to his next 
year's salary, had, the day before, almost mashed his toe. 
There were cart-loads of silver in bricks, most of it, like the 
gold, coming from America; but there was not in all this 
great store a single Bland dollar, — a famous coin at home, but 
which does not flourish in London as yet. 

The Bank does all its own note printing, and also all the 
assorting of light-weight coins. It is the great corrector of 
the British coinage, returning to the mint for the melting-pot 
all the light-weight, defective, and defaced coins that come into 
it. By this means it keeps the coinage up to the standard, as 
only the good ones are allowed to go into circulation again. 
The loss on the silver coinage the government bears, but the 
depositors have to bear the loss on the gold coinage. Every 
coin that comes in on deposit or otherwise is weighed, and the 






THE BANK OF ENGLAND. 109 

light ones are immediately cut almost in two, by an ingenious 
little machine that works with great celerity. For every short- 
weight sovereign the depositor is charged a uniform discount 
of eight cents, which covers the average loss from this cause. 
For gold bullion and foreign gold coins, the Bank pays by 
weight, at the rate of seventy-seven shillings and nine pence 
per ounce for gold. 

The Bank transacts all the Government business in connec- 
tion with the Public debt, and, so far as this department is 
concerned, it acts similarly to the Treasury at Washington in 
paying interest and making transfers. The debt is all regis- 
tered stock, however, and separate accounts are kept with 
every holder. There are about two hundred and fifty thousand 
of these debt accounts, some being in very large amounts. I 
was shown a signature of Glyn & Co., where they had just 
received interest on nearly two million one hundred thousand 
dollars of one class of the debt. The business of the Bank is 
divided into three great departments, — the Government Debt, 
the Issue (bank-notes), and the Private Deposits. Each of 
these is separately conducted, and the deposits aggregate about 
one hundred and thirty million dollars. I told some of the 
Bank officials that this sum possibly was not all the deposits, 
as several of my countrymen, in Camden and elsewhere, were 
inquiring about one hundred and fifty or one hundred and 
sixty millions on deposit in the Bank for the Jennings estate, 
but they did not seem to be aware of any such deposit, but 
they were very sure that the total actual deposits footed up 
what I have named. 

There are, among the great curiosities of the Bank, its 
method of tracing the history of every note it has issued, 
done with great labor by means of ingenious indexes. The 
smallest note is for five pounds and the largest for one thou- 
sand pounds. In their collection of redeemed notes, all of 
which are kept, is a redeemed note that had gone through the 
Chicago fire. This note had been burnt to a crisp, yet it had 
been carefully opened out and the charred remains spread 
upon a glass plate, so that all was restored excepting a small 
portion. There, in the ashes, can be read the language of 
the note, its number and date. This note, which was for ten 
pounds, the Bank promptly redeemed, and it is now carefully 
preserved as a great curiosity. There is a case that shows 

10 



HO A HOLIDAY TOUR. 

the gradual progress of the Bank in making these notes, by 
exhibiting specimens. The earliest notes were written with a 
pen, and it was customary to change their amounts by erasures 
and interlineations. From these they improved step by step 
to the almost square white pieces of paper of to-day, printed in 
bold German text, and whilst being twice the size, yet as un- 
like the American note as it is possible for two bank-notes to 
be. Another curious collection contains specimens of attempted 
forgeries, alterations, and counterfeiting of notes. Some of 
these are by photographing, others by pasting and raising, 
some being clever and others poor imitations. But whilst the 
printing is imitated, there has been no even approximately 
successful attempt to imitate the water-marked paper, wherein 
the Bank places its main reliance for the safety of the note. 
In one case the attempt was made to print upon stolen gen- 
uine bank-paper, gotten surreptitiously from the mill, but the 
checks are so admirable that it was at once detected and the 
fraud suppressed before the notes had got into circulation.* 
The Bank is a wonderful place, and not the least famous part 
is the Directors' Boom, looking out upon a pretty little garden, 
for, even in the heart of busy Londou, land is not so valuable 
that a little cannot be spared for grass and flowers. In this 
bank parlor the Directors meet and sit around a large, oblong, 
circular table every Thursday. Here they raise and lower the 
discount rate, and thus give official quotation, as it were, to 
the fluctuations of the London money market, to which all 
others bear tribute. But, though the enormous money-power 
concentrates here, the Directors who wield it are, neverthe- 
less, true Englishmen. Whatever else they do, they do not 
forget the inner man, for here smoked sundry joints of juicy 
beef and mutton, and other savory viands, showing that, even 
in the Bank of England, as elsewhere, the stomach still ruled 
the roast. 



* Many tradesmen in England, when they receive a Bank of England 
note from a customer, require him to write his name on the back. This 
is done to identify and trace the note, and many notes are in circulation 
with these endorsements upon them. The author thus had on several 
occasions to endorse the notes of the Bank of England before the careful 
tradesmen would consent to receive them. 



- 



THE TIMES OFFICE. \\\ 



THE TIMES OFFICE. 

To the journalist the London Times office is always a curi- 
osity, and I found that ten years had nearly revolutionized it, 
externally and internally. The old offices have been almost 
entirely supplanted by new ones, and the changes that have 
been gradually going on for years will soon be completed, giv- 
ing the Times a new office, with every modern convenience, 
fronting on Queen Victoria Street, the new highway cut 
through from the Mansion House to the Thames at the com- 
mencement of the Victoria Embankment. The new structure 
is a fine building, of attractive appearance and imposing eleva- 
tion, surmounted by the clock, which is the chief feature of 
the journal's coat of arms. It towers far above all the sur- 
rounding structures, and can be seen far over the Thames. 
Printing-House Square, the famous little court-yard which 
runs up into the heart of the Times buildings, is being pre- 
served in these alterations, but it will be surrounded when 
they are completed by an entirely new structure, which, in 
almost every direction, has covered new ground, so that now 
the office extends over a greatly increased space. In the 
mechanism of the Times there have been wonderful changes 
wrought during the past ten years. Then, the machinists 
were secretly constructing the first Walter Perfecting Press, 
and had got it into satisfactory working order. Now they 
have removed every other machine from the office, and are 
printing the Times on eight of these Walter Presses, whilst 
they have built twenty-four others for various newspapers in 
England and America, and the large machine-shop in the 
premises is constantly turning out more. It requires a good 
deal of machinery to print the fourteen tons of white paper, 
which is the daily edition of the Times. In the type-setting 
as well as the printing there have also been great improve- 
ments made. A type-setting-machine has been constructed 
in the office, which has been put into successful use, and a 
half-dozen of these machines now set up the greater part of 
the type. The compositors still work upon the advertisements, 
but the machines compose the chief part of the reading mat- 
ter, an average night's work for each machine being a page of 
the newspaper. Direct wires, under its own control and lead- 
ing direct into its office, bring ike Times most of its telegraphio 



112 A HOLIDAY TOUR. 

news, and its telegrams are measured by pages. Pneumatic 
tubes for transmitting copy and proofs, and electric signals 
connect different parts of the building, and to save exorbitant 
gas-bills it is now being provided with the electric light.* 
These changes, with the adaptation of every possible improve- 
ment, are making the Times the best-appointed newspaper 
office in the world. Besides manufacturing its own presses 
and type-setting-machines it also casts its own type. I have 
never seen anywhere better or more comfortable quarters for 
the editors and writers who work in the office. There, if any- 
where, the thunderbolts can be successfully forged. The entire 
new structure is also thoroughly fire-proof. Ten years is a 
good deal in the life of a newspaper, and in that period great 
improvements have been wrought in the Times. Its then 
system of making the telegraph secondary to the post has been 
superseded, and its progress has kept pace with every improve- 
ment in newsgetting. It has also, through the inexorable law 
of change, experienced a change of interior management, 
though the same master-hand of John Walter guides its suc- 
cessful career. The former editor and manager, overborne 
with cares, have retired, and one of them has since died. 
Younger men have stepped into their places to wield the enor- 
mous power of the Times, and they wield it with all the skill of 
their predecessors, with the added improvements of these later 
years. Printing-House Square is, however, always a sealed book 
to the uninitiated, and whilst the public may wonder and guess 
at its methods and motors, their source is never revealed. Its 
provision of comforts for the printers is also a prominent fea- 
ture in the organization of the Times establishment. It provides 
all the hands with their meals, cooking their food on the prem- 
ises and having a restaurant for them, where they get wholesome 
food well served at cost. It has a sick fund and a medical 
fund, to which all the employes contribute, and which provides 
for their support and medical attendance when ill. It also has 
a saving fund where they all lay by a portion of their earnings. 
And once every year the entire establishment goes to the coun- 
try home of the proprietor at Bearwood, near Reading, Eng- 
land, and partakes of the Times annual anniversary dinner. 
This festival occurred this year on August 11. 

*The electric light has, since October, 1878, been successfully used in 
the composing- and machine-rooms of the Times office. 



LONDON TAXATION. 113 

LETTER XXI. 

LONDON TAXATION. 

London, August 19. 
The general impression in America seems to be that the 
taxation in England is very heavy, and, fully impressed with 
this idea, I made an examination into the matter, and was as- 
tonished to find that London real estate is not taxed at any- 
thing like the rate that Philadelphia pays. To all outward 
appearance the service London gets for its taxes is good, — that 
is, the police and fire service, the street pavements, lighting, 
sewerage, cleaning, and everything of that kind are of the 
best character. We are accustomed to good police and fire 
service in Philadelphia ; to street-cleaning that is good in some 
parts and bad in others ; and to street pavements that, except 
iu a few of our principal streets, London would not tolerate. 
Public municipal taxation in London provides for about the 
same things that it does with us, but a very much larger pro- 
portion of the taxes collected are poor-rates. A gentleman 
here was kind enough to show me all his tax-bills, and his 
case I am about to quote. He occupies in the heart of Lon- 
don, not very far from the Bank of England, a large building, 
recently erected in substantial style, which fronts about thirty- 
eight feet on St. Bartholomew's Close, and is about forty feet 
in depth. In London the tenant and not the landlord pays 
the taxes, but they are assessed, as with us, on the real estate. 
This building has a rental value of three hundred and fifty 
pounds, or seventeen hundred and fifty dollars, and if it could 
be bought at all, — which it could not, — he said he would be 
willing to give forty-five or fifty thousand dollars for it. The 
rentals, he said, were usually estimated at three to three and one- 
half per cent, of the freehold value of the property, the tenant, 
in addition, paying the taxes. Were this property located in 
Philadelphia, and valued, as most buildings now are, at an ap- 
proximation to their value at a public sale, the tax on it would be 
eight hundred to nine hundred dollars for municipal purposes. 
This gentleman paid for his entire municipal tax one hundred 

10* 



114 A HOLIDAY TOUR. 

and twenty-five dollars, of which sixty-nine dollars was the 
poor-rate, and the remainder, of about fifty-four dollars, sup- 
plied every municipal charge, including about everything for 
which we pay taxes in Philadelphia. This sum was the aggre- 
gate of all his real-estate taxes for every purpose. He paid, 
in addition, the income tax due the general government on the 
profits of his business, but that was the only other tax he paid. 
Now, it impressed me so strongly that this London merchant 
got so much better return for so much less money invested in 
municipal taxes, that it would do good to tell the story. It 
certainly disabused my mind of the impression that London 
was taxed more heavily than Philadelphia. He paid his taxes 
at different periods, and not all in one annual bill as is cus- 
tomary with us. The poor-rate, which was more than half 
the total tax, was collected quarterly ; some of the others half- 
yearly. The valuation on which the tax was based was not 
the valuation of the property, but a valuation based upon the 
rental, from which various deductions were allowed. Thus, he 
being the holder of a long lease, had recently put up a fine new 
building on the land, end, instead of increasing the valuation 
for this reason, a deduction had been allowed on account of 
the improvement, — in other words, the municipality offered 
this premium for public improvements. 

It would, of course, be impossible for London to support ita 
costly city and metropolitan government upon such a tax as 
this, if the real estate were solely taxed. But it, on the con- 
trary, looks elsewhere for a portion of the burden, and the 
taxes on real estate are, therefore, lightened. It gets a mag- 
nificent revenue, in addition to paying for the cleansing, from 
the street dirt, from the cabs and omnibuses, the railways and 
steamers. Everything that here enjoys a corporate privilege, 
from which money can be made in the city, pays tribute pro- 
portioned to the income derived. The markets yield a hand- 
some revenue. The franchises that with us are given away, 
in London pay a large portion of the taxes ; and the men of 
property impose the taxes, collect them, and see that they are 
properly spent. They do not delegate these important functions 
to politicians. The millionaires of London conduct the Boards 
of Works and Municipal government, and they do it on sound 
business principles. I asked how much of the public money 
was squandered here. The reply was that some may be, but 



A LONDON MARKET. 115 

if they suspect that as much as a shilling in the pound is wrong- 
fully spent there is an outcry made about it. How happy 
Philadelphia would be were she sure that only five per cent, of 
her taxation is squandered ! 

A LONDON MARKET. 

London has a great meat market and a great poultry market, 
— both at Smithfield, — and a great fish market at Billingsgate; 
but other cities have great markets of this kind where there 
are large transactions, and they are no novelty. London, how- 
ever, has a market, the like of which, in its entirety, probably 
nowhere else exists, — the " Old Clothes Market" of Hounds- 
ditch. Houndsditch is a noted street in the East End of 
London, the most populous quarter of the city, but that rarely 
visited by travellers. Fronting one end of this street is the 
great slop-clothing establishment of Moses, whose fame and 
fortune were years ago made by his originally inventing what 
many have since imitated, poetical newspaper advertising. 
On one side of Houndsditch there runs off a narrow passage 
called " Phil's Buildings," which widens into a court-yard 
covering nearly an acre, whilst adjacent, and communicating 
with it, are buildings, passage-ways, shops, court-yards, and 
various purlieus, covering probably eight or ten acres more. 
This is the " Old Clothes Market," the open court-yard being 
the Exchange, whilst the adjacent places are the storehouses 
and offices of the dealers. Signs over the entrance announced 
that hawkers and peddlers paid one half-penny a day tax on 
entering the market, whilst country dealers and wholesalers 
paid threepence. These taxes supported the market. Visitors 
and casual purchasers paid one penny. Investing that coin I 
entered. The court-yard was arranged much like an ordinary 
market, with rows of square spaces separated by low partitions, 
and a half-dozen alley-ways running through to give access. 
The dealers sat in their spaces and the purchasers passed 
through the alley-ways. There were probably five hundred 
people, of both sexes and all nationalities, bargaining in the 
liveliest style. No great market or stock exchange on its 
busiest day ever showed more animation or made much more 
noise. Each dealer had his wares in front of and around him, 
and the chaffering and bargaining went on with the greatest 
earnestness. Each dealer also had his special line of trade. 



116 A HOLIDAY TOUR. 

One dealt in men's cast-off clothing; another in women's; 
another had old hats for sale ; another old shoes ; and each 
class of these articles was allotted a special portion of the 
market. I never looked upon anything in my life that ex- 
ceeded in its kind of attractiveness a row of about ten dealers in 
old hats, who had piled up in all their glory the dilapidated head- 
gear of every fashion since the days of George the First. The 
old-shoe display was varied and extraordinary, and it had as 
an appendage several dealers in the old cast-off and partly 
worn-out soles of shoes. These soles were neatly tied up in 
dozens, and thus dealt in. 

This market is said to represent a vast amount of business 
and a considerable amount of money. Here have been started 
some of the great fortunes of London. The old-clothes dealer 
has amassed some wealth and then gone into other pursuits, in 
which, carefully concealing his origin, he has grown in fame. 
The market acts upon the principle of furnishing a place where 
all the old-clothes collectors of the kingdom can briug and dis- 
pose of their gatherings. They go about the country exchang- 
ing trimmings, images, and trinkets for old clothes, then bring 
their collections to London to this market, where the dealers — 
like any other commission men — sell them, and then, laying in 
another stock of trinkets and trumpery in Houndsditch, they 
go out again on their rounds. The pawnbrokers' old-clothes 
pledges are also disposed of here, and in the adjacent purlieus 
may be seen the result of some of the purchases for sale — the 
old clothes, hats, and shoes, furbished up. There are plenty 
of buyers in the market, — buyers of all kinds, — slop-clothing 
and second-hand dealers of all grades, and people who buy for 
their own use. There were quite as many women as men 
there, and the place had its gin-palace, to which all classes re- 
sorted to close good bargains, by the usual potations. This 
market, certainly the most extraordinary I ever saw, would 
make a strong impression on every visitor, and shows that 
there is no business which does not prosper from having its 
exchange. The same rule which holds good in corn, or cotton, 
or stocks, is potential in old clothes, hats, and boots. The one 
is as likely to produce fortunes as the other. 



THE AMERICAN MINISTER. H7 

LETTER XXII. 

THE AMERICAN MINISTER. 

London, August 21. 
At a recent dinner-party in Paris, Governor Noyes, the 
American Minister there, proposed a toast to the health of the 
two American Ministers in Europe who had not been over- 
hauled by the Potter committee. The point was so well taken 
that it brought down the house, and the toast was heartily 
drunk, being responded to by Bayard Taylor, the Minister to 
Berlin, who had just arrived in Europe, and by John Welsh, 
the Minister to London. In both of these gentlemen Phila- 
delphia takes much interest, — in Mr. Taylor, on account of his 
Chester County nativity, and in Mr. Welsh, because the whole 
of his life is interwoven with the history of the Quaker City. 
It will be of interest, therefore, to write home something of 
the American Minister and of the Legation. The Legation 
occupies the best apartments in one of the finest buildings on 
one of the greatest streets of London, — Victoria Street, the 
grand avenue that leads from the Thames Embankment and 
the Parliament Houses, up past Westminster Abbey to Vic- 
toria Station and the West End. This fine new street has 
great edifices on both sides, some not yet completed, for the 
street is a comparatively new one, and the Legation is located 
in the " Members' Buildings," an imposing structure not yet, 
however, finished throughout. Here, on the first floor, fronted 
by fine bow windows, ornamented by the window-gardens that 
are such an attraction in almost all the English cities, the 
Minister attends daily to receive American visitors and con- 
duct the Legation business. The office is commodious and 
convenient, and the Minister is as accessible to all comers as 
he was in his Philadelphia office on Walnut Street. In this 
respect he has changed considerably the custom of some of 
his predecessors, who were rather exclusive in their ideas, and 
he is almost as faithful in attendance at the Legation during 
office hours as the secretaries. In fact, business is conducted 
upon the true American system of throwing open the door to 



118 A HOLIDAY TOUR. 

every American whom business or courtesy may lead to visit 
the Legation, the Minister being as accessible as the secretaries. 
The visitors are consequently very numerous, and pages of the 
Legation book, which records their calls, are filled every day 
with American autographs. To these visitors the Minister 
acts the part of counsellor, friend, adviser, and general guide 
in a way that is marvellous, doing things for them that diplo- 
macy never contemplated, and, in fact, devoting himself to 
their service to an extent that few men would be willing to 
undergo the task of doing. This has made the post a la-- 
borious one, but it has also made Mr. Welsh a very popular 
Minister. His sterling good sense and eminent business qual- 
ifications have also commended him to Englishmen, and I 
have found, in moving about London, that he is held in high 
estimation in influential circles, and that he probably has 
greater weight with her Majesty's government than any Min- 
ister sent here for a long time from the United States. The 
active affairs of the British Government are ccmducted by ex- 
perienced business men, and they strongly appreciate the ad- 
vantage of having in the diplomatic corps a business man who 
is thoroughly conversant with the laws of trade, which are 
the paramount interests in transatlantic affairs, and who can, 
at the same time, give a judgment that is unbiased by some 
supposed interest in the tiresome Eastern question. Mr. 
Welsh also stands well socially, and, domiciled in one of the 
finest mansions in London, on Queen's Gate, opposite the 
South Kensington Museum, his receptions have been promi- 
nent features of the London season just closed. His diplo- 
matic career thus far has not been marked by any very 
stirring question, but there nevertheless are many that he has 
attended to with fidelity and success, and his marked business 
qualifications will in the long run tell pointedly in favor of our 
country, should any important question arise. It is gratifying 
to know in Philadelphia, that, she having sent abroad the 
chief American Minister of President Hayes' administration, 
his excellent character and qualifications are thoroughly appre- 
ciated in the country to which he is accredited. 

LONDON POPULAR RECREATION. 

There is no more marked feature of London than the grand 
scale on which are got up cheap and wholesome recreations 



LONDON POPULAR RECREATION. 119 

for the people. The Londoner, however poor, need never be 
at a loss for healthful and instructive entertainments, and there 
is provided every convenience for reaching them by cheap 
conveyances. The fares on the cheap trains are not over one 
cent per mile, and by buying return-tickets even this rate can 
be cheapened. Then fares are scarcely higher on the enor- 
mously costly Underground Railways, that cost an average of 
three million two hundred and fifty thousand dollars per 
mile to construct. Then in the outskirts of the city, and 
also in populous sections where the Underground Railways 
do not run, there are several "tram-car" companies, — anal- 
ogous to our horse-cars, — whilst omnibuses run everywhere. 
For recreation there are provided parks, gardens, museums, 
and other resorts maintained at the public expense in end- 
less profusion. Every one has heard of that branch of the 
British Government known as the Privy Council, the chief func- 
tion of which is to conduct the Civil Service Examinations 
and look after Education. The Council Committee on Edu- 
cation provides these great museums, which are maintained at 
public expense, and are officered and governed by this com- 
mittee. Months could be spent in the task and yet these mu- 
seums be not half examined. What single individual has yet 
explored all the treasures of the British Museum ? And yet 
it is a free museum that any one may visit without cost. The 
South Kensington Museum, which is one of the greatest in- 
stitutions of the kind in the world, covering several acres with 
its halls, to which newer and even larger ones are still being 
added, is accessible without charge three days in the week, and 
on the other three for sixpence. There nowhere exists a 
more splendid collection of gems and curiosities than this great 
exhibition discloses. Here they are from all parts of the 
world, exhibited by the acre, and rivalling the splendor of our 
Centennial Main Building, the great halls showing as much, 
and most of it of more value. The Costal Palace and the 
Alexandra Palace, each enormous structures, devoted to art 
and entertainment, are accessible for a shilling. The former 
is now a series of grand courts illustrating life in various 
countries and at different epochs, with reproductions of many 
famous things. For a shilling the Zoological Garden may be 
6een, which, whilst on a much larger scale than our own, and 
containing many more animals, yet does not contain of some 



6 



120 A HOLIDAY TOUR. 

species anything like as good specimens as we have in Fair- 
mount Park. This is especially the case with seals and sea- 
lions, whilst there are no chimpanzees, and several other animals 
that we have are missing. But they have about a dozen ele- 
phants, which spend their time in riding the little boys and 
girls around the grounds. For lovers of horticulture and 
botany there are a half-dozen free gardens provided, the chief 
being at Kew, the most famous garden in the world. This 
extraordinary exhibition of what can be done with trees, 
bushes, shrubs, and flowers is worth going many miles to see ; 
but their greatest hot-house, the " palm house," although it 
contains palm-trees sixty feet high, can bear no comparison to 
our magnificent Horticultural Hall in Fairmount Park. There, 
in a special house, is another Victoria Regia, in full bloom, — 
an offshoot, I think, from the one at Chatsworth. Fourteen 
of its enormous leaves, exactly circular and each about five 
feet in circumference, looking like so many gigantic green 
dinner-plates, were placidly floating on the surface of the 
water, whilst one large flower was opening at the centre of 
the tank. This garden could be explored by days together, 
and is the great achievement of what may be called popu- 
larized botany, — the plants being tastefully arranged to please 
the eye, and the entire garden laid out with a view to the best 
artistic effect. Then there are at least a dozen parks, most of 
them with water scenery, to add to the attractions. Many 
millions have been spent in thus providing recreation for Lon- 
don. If Philadelphia or New York had one-fourth part of 
what has been done here at public cost for the public amuse- 
ment, both cities would be greatly the gainers. And though 
London, especially on a Sunday afternoon, streams out to these 
attractive places in crowds, yet I doubt if one-half the popu- 
lation derives any benefit from them. There is a numerous 
class, especially at the East End, who will not go, but prefer 
to linger in the noisome purlieus that make up that extraor- 
dinary region, and never take any recreation. I can readily 
believe that there are thousands in London who have never 
seen grass growing in the green fields, as they can neither be 
coaxed nor driven to go out and look at them. 

These museums and gardens of which I have written are got 
up on the most extensive scale. There cannot be imagined 
a more fatiguing task than to go over one of them. Each 



LONDON POPULAR RECREATION. 121 

has grown in all these years, by constant additions, to pro- 
digious size. The succession of novelties is endless. It is 
like looking at ten thousand most fascinating show-windows. 
One sees so much of so varied character that the mind fails to 
grasp it, and the legs and eyes give out before the task is one- 
third over. What a task it was to go to the Centennial and 
attempt to see it as it should be looked at ! and yet here are a 
dozen Centennials challenging observation, each a complete 
representation of its special kind of exhibition. If London 
wants to be instructed there is abundant provision for it, and 
the Londoner should not be uneducated if museums and free 
public exhibitions of all sorts can accomplish it. It is idle to 
suppose that this great city can be seen in a week, or in a year, 
— seen as it should be. There are gray-headed men who have 
passed all their lives in London who still are ignorant of large 
portions of it, and, in fact, never were in some parts of the 
city. I know one who has never been to the Tower, and 
another who had never been through the Thames Tunnel. 
What can you do with such people ? They are as great curi- 
osities as any London has in her wonderful museums, and 
would be as remarkable beings as a Philadelphian who had 
never seen Independence Hall. 

One great sight of London, in the season, is to go to Hyde 
Park on a fine afternoon about five o'clock and see the 
carriages and equestrians on " Rotten Row." There are two 
roads, one for carriage-riding, and the other devoted exclusively 
to horseback-riding. No hired vehicle is allowed to enter Hyde 
Park, and here, at the height of the season, may be seen 
" everybody who is anybody" in coach or on horseback, turn- 
ing out for an airing. Crowded with carriages and equestrians, 
the liveries and badges of the nobility passing in procession 
before you, the sight of its kind is unequalled in Europe. 
Each turnout is got up so as to outrival the other in Park 
equipage, and the ladies in full dress present an attractive array. 
On a fine day in the height of the season, Rotten Row will 
thus exhibit pretty much all the nobility and the wealthy and 
distinguished people of the kingdom, spread out, as it were, 
for the public, who go there in large numbers, to look at. And 
then as the liveries go by, and you recognize from them and 
from the armorial bearings on the coach-panels that the dis- 
tinguished equipage belongs to the " Lord Knows Who" or 
f 11 



122 A HOLIDAY TOUR. 

the " Count No Account," or some other nobleman of 
greater or less fame, you can count up just what it costs milord 
in taxes to make the display. In the first place, he pays two 
guineas annual tax to the government for using the carriage. 
Then he pays two guineas more tax for the privilege of put- 
ting his armorial bearings on the panels of the carriage, and 
one guinea more if he exhibits them anywhere else. For the 
privileges of having a coachman he pays sixteen shillings, and 
thirty-two shillings more for the two footmen, whilst if a dog 
runs with the carriage, as many of them have to increase the 
impression, there is paid five shillings more. Thus, to drive 
along Rotten Row in style costs about forty dollars tax, so that 
it may be an open question whether the glory always pays. 



LETTER XXIII. 

SOME ENGLISH IMPRESSIONS. 

London, August 23. 
The American traveller in Great Britain is naturally im- 
pressed by a multitude of experiences which are unlike what 
he is accustomed to in his own country. Of some of these I 
have already written. The hotels of England will compare 
favorably with those of our own country in many respects, 
but in some matters they appear to have ways that are very 
odd. There is no such thing as a hotel " office" in the Amer- 
ican sense, or that being maligued by so many, but whom I 
have generally found to be gentlemanly and painstaking, — the 
American hotel clerk. Young ladies keep the accounts and 
manage the office-business of the hotel, but the guests are not 
expected to interview them, and, in fact, that great American 
institution, the hotel-counter, whereon lies the register, and 
over which the guests may lounge and ask questions, and get 
pens and paper and toothpicks, and look at the " Directory," 
and do the thousand' and one things the American expects 
to do at the hotel-counters, is an unknown article in this 
kingdom. The porter at the hotel door is the man here who 
answers questions, and the head waiter is the person who 



SOME ENGLISH IMPRESSIONS. 123 

"takes the bill," — that is, the person to whom the guest pays 
his board. If you have the temerity to pay your bill, your- 
self, the waiter lets you know it, as it is his prerogative to 
carry the money to the book-keeper, bring back the receipt 
and change on a silver waiter, — and get the douceur from the 
guest which is intended to be extracted by all this ceremony. 
There is very good service at the hotels, and I have been in 
probably twenty in different cities in the kingdom. The 
bedding, linens, and table and room furniture are usually of 
excellent quality, — better than many American hotels furnish, 
for the English guest is very exacting in these respects, and 
his country produces the best linens and bedding in the world. 
In magnificence of decoration some of these hotels are re- 
markable, whilst everything is constructed in the most sub- 
stantial manner. But unlike the American, the English 
traveller rarely writes his name on a hotel register, so that 
many of the hotels here do not have such a book. The eating 
is good and the preparation of food excellent. England is 
famous for her meats and their good cooking, but very weak 
in vegetables. The visitor misses that almost endless profusion 
of vegetables he gets in America, and has to be content at this 
season with potatoes and string-beans, with an occasional dish 
of peas, cauliflower, and " vegetable marrow," under which 
imposing title is introduced our well-known American friend, 
the squash. The cabbage, of which so much is made with us, 
is not considered good enough for a first-class hotel table, whilst 
the tomato is too great a luxury for ordinary people to aspire 
to. When the Queen wishes to particularly favor a guest at 
dinner, he is treated to baked tomatoes. Green corn is un- 
known, and practically the meal is made of soup, fish, meat, 
potatoes, and beans, on which the variations are played day in 
and day out. Then the American misses the desserts. If 
you ask for pie in this country, you are brought the remains 
of yesterday's dinner hashed up into a meat-pie. The English 
of pie is "tart," and an English tart, whilst it may be popular 
among those to the manner born, will never satisfy the great 
American pie-biter. There is no "dessert" at meals, but they 
hand around "sweets," but some of the "sweets," which are 
concoctions of plums, gooseberries, rhubarb, etc., are horribly 
sour. That grand American solace in hot weather, "ice- 
cream," is unknown in England. John Bull has attempted to 



124 A HOLIDAY TOUR. 

manufacture what he calls "ices," but the attempt is a miser- 
able failure. I can imagine how Burns, or Bruna, or Au- 
gustine, or Bauer, or Slocum, or some other of our ice-cream 
Bisniarcks, would look awry at these mixtures, which the 
untutored Briton endeavors to impose on the American at 
triple the cost as a substitute for ice-cream. There is a for- 
tune for the Yankee who comes over here and introduces the 
genuine article. 

The great mystery to an American in British home arrange- 
ments is how England has managed to get tea ahead of dinner. 
You breakfast in the morning, lunch at mid-day, and take tea 
in the afternoon. Then afterwards, at seven or eight o'clock 
at night, you take dinner, and after spending hours at it — go 
to bed. The dinner is the grave and ponderous and important 
event of the day, — never lightly or hastily taken by the true 
Englishman, — and the dinner is, in fact, an essential part of 
every transaction. To become a lawyer in England there 
must be a certain number of dinners certified as eaten in the 
Temple, and if you visit an Englishman on business, a dinner 
or two is necessary before it can be consummated. Then your 
thorough Briton has got himself into the proper state of mind 
to attend to ordinary affairs. The nation is rarely in a hurry. 
An Englishman may run to catch a railway train, but he is 
neither in a hurry to get up in the morning or to go to bed at 
night. It is nine o'clock before the stores open, and much 
later when business men appear at their offices. The morning 
newspapers are issued very late, and, in fact, although the sun 
gets up very early in summer-time, a large portion of his 
morning shining is upon a race that has not yet begun the 
work of the day. 

One of the British anomalies is the absence of available 
water. They have plenty of streams and plenty of rain- 
storms, and most elaborate systems of water-supply ; but their 
use of water is as if it was not abundant. London would be 
aghast at the deluge that overflows Philadelphia on Saturday 
mornings. House-fronts, steps, and sidewalks are innocent of 
cleansing, and a Londoner told me that he did not believe there 
was a hundred feet of garden-hose in the city. Therefore 
one can walk about without being splashed or squirted on, 
or having a long brush-handle run into his ribs. But they 
don't have white marble and red bricks in London,— everything 



SOME ENGLISH MPRESSIONS. 125 

Is dingy, dark, and dirty, — in fact, the city could not be kept 
clean if the Thames ran through every street. Your true 
Englishman, too, is not a water-drinker, and hence very little 
attention is paid to furnishing water for this purpose. It is 
seldom put on hotel tables, and when it is asked for is brought 
in very small quantities. " Water-coolers" are unknown, and 
ice a scarce article. There is nothing that seems so odd to an 
American as his difficulty in getting a drink of water. With 
a single exception, the railways have scarcely any water fur- 
nished in cars or stations, and that railway makes a great glori- 
fication over having begun the giving of water to passengers, 
advertising the fact extensively as a reason for patronage, and 
when the passenger goes on the line he finds that the water 
is occasionally brought around when the train stops, and is 
poured out in small quantities from a receptacle that looks like 
a superannuated watering-pot into a mug, from which you have 
to drink then and there, or else go without. Thus the pas- 
sengers are, at stated intervals, watered like so many horses.* 



* On August 19, 1878, the London Time* printed the following coinmu- 
~ ication, under the title of " Tbe Water Supply" : 

'To the Editor op the Times: 

" Sir, — I am an American, who has been travelling for about a month 
past in the United Kingdom. During that period I have crossed many- 
streams of water, and been frequently deluged by rain, and gazed on 
fountains and lakes, and seen most elaborate machinery and constructions 
for supplying water to cities, and have passed frequent dvinking-foun- 
tains in the streets; but have, nevertheless, with all this abundance of 
water on every hand, been frequently put to sad straits to get a drink of 
it. With the ability everywhere to get wine, beer, and spirits, I have 
nevertheless found that most of the hotels I have stopped at do not think 
it necessary to supply water. In America we are accustomed to having 
water supplied in every public place, every hotel, railway station, public 
building, store, shop, — in fact, everywhere that men may congregate. 
The ' ice-water' reservoir stands in a convenient place, with drinking- 
cups provided, and all who are thirsty go and help themselves. I do not 
mean to say that Americans exclusively drink water, but such of them 
as desire to drink it have the convenience everywhere provided in public 

E laces. — not only drinking-fountains along the streets, but especially in 
otels and railway stations. The Americans, who are a travelling people, 
notice the want of this convenience more than anything else on coming 
to Europe. An American can get a drink of water, of course, if he asks 
for it; but he is accustomed to helping himself to it at home, and finding 
the means at hand. Water is always put upon the table at every meal 
in every American hotel, and is considered as much an essential of table 
furniture as the knives or dishes. There is not a railway carriage that 

11* 



126 A HOLIDAY TOUR. 

I have already mentioned the proneness of our English cousin 
to exclusiveness. He builds high walls to keep gazers from 
looking into his grounds, and charters an entire compartment 
in a railway carriage so as to exclude all his fellows. He wants 
to be snug in his home and to enjoy his family society, or his 
club or his " set," without outside interference. I am told 
that the Pullman parlor-cars which have been introduced at 



carries passengers on American railways that is without its copious sup- 
ply of water, besides ample supplies in the stations. I asked for water 
at the table in a Liverpool hotel upon first landing, and the waiters 
looked at me and at each other as if I were an Ashantee or red Indian. 
I asked for water again in tbe ancient town of Chester, — not at the table, 
to be sure, — and it took three persons and ten minutes' time to get a 
drink. One servant, after some delay, told a second to get it. and then, 
after more delay, a third brought it. In Dublin, for six persons, I was 
served, after asking at the table, with about one pint, with one glass for 
the six to drink from. In Glasgow and Edinburgh, I am happy to say, 
the water was actually placed on the table without being asked for. 
Here in London, however, there was again difficulty in gett'ng it; but 
now, since I have been six days at the hotel, I have at length succeeded 
to-day in getting the waiter to place, without asking, the water and the 
glasses on the table. It was such a victory for American principles in 
the British metropolis that I at once determined to write you about it. 

" It is estimated that there are this year at least fifty thousand Amer- 
icans travelling in Europe, and nearly every one of them is at some time 
a visitor to England. I have noticed that the peculiar characteristics of 
Continental visitors are amply provided for in England, and would cer- 
tainly think that those who serve the travelling public would be equally 
anxious to provide for the Americans, who make up a very large propor- 
tion of the guests at hotels and the passengers on railways. Now, an 
American may drink beer, wine, and spirits without stint, and occasion- 
ally ' treat' every one who may happen to be within call, but he still 
wants his drink of water. It would be a very little boon for the railway 
management or the hotel proprietor to place this convenience within his 
reach, so that the free-born American could go and help himself without 
stint and without hindrance. I can imagine my countrymen flocking to 
an hotel that set up a free ' water-cooler' for the guests, while of the 
competing lines of railway from Liverpool to London the one that had 
drinking-water easily accessible in the stations and in the carriages 
would attract the most American travellers. It is a subject of such vital 
importance that it might even avert another Alabama or Fishery contro- 
versy between the two nations. Who knows ? But. at all events, when 
I go into my English hotel, gorgeous with all that the builder's and dec- 
orator's arts can supply, with its elaborate furnishing, its tiling, its mir- 
rors, its fine linens and grand tahle service, let me not longer look in 
vain for water. I would at any time at dinner exchange any halt-dozen 
ol the multitude of knives, forks, spoons, plates, and wine-glasses set 
before me for a good, honest drink of old-fashioned American ice-water. 

"An American Traveller. 

"London, August 17." 






SOME ENGLISH IMPRESSIONS. 127 

great cost on some of the English railways, will, from this 
cause, probably fail. The race is not gregarious. They will 
not ride together in the large American style of car. They 
want to shut themselves up in the little compartments, and 
hence the Pullman coach runs comparatively empty. But per- 
severance is a good Yankee trick, and Mr. Pullman may yet 
win. In railway arrangements we can teach the English very 
little, but we can learn from them a great deal. Railroading, 
as exhibited in and around London, is a science to which few of 
our railways approach. There is a general impression, too, that 
our system of baggage expresses in the large cities could be suc- 
cessfully introduced into England, but I doubt it. In Phila- 
delphia we get the local transfer company to take our trunks 
to and from railway stations, because we cannot manage it 
in any other way except at considerable cost for hack hire. In 
London the passenger and his trunk go in a cab, and at a 
cost not greater than our express charge. The railway porter 
receives you at the station and takes your baggage to or from 
the cab as the case may be. There are plenty of porters, no 
delays, and scarcely any trouble. Your baggage travels with 
you in the same train. My impression before coming to Eng- 
land was that there was a chance for the Yankee to introduce 
the conveniences in England that we have about baggage, 
but my impression now is, that the Yankee who tries it will 
get his labor for his pains. The baggage-express system, which 
is founded upon the costliness and defects of the hack system 
in America, would not work in England, because the same 
service and more is performed cheaper. So long as a cab 
carries the passenger for twenty-five cents and his trunk fo 
four cents, the express would have no advantage. Other things 
being even, a passenger prefers to have his baggage always 
with him. It saves delays and trouble. This advantage the 
cab gives, and it is the rule throughout the entire kingdom. 
In fact, carriage charges of all kinds are very cheap here, and • 
they are so well regulated by laws fwhich are enforced) tha t * 
the visitor gets the full benefit of 'them. I have known five 
persons (one with the driver) to ride in a coach with two. seats 
three miles between railway station and hotel, the coach also 
carrying a half-dozen pieces of baggage on top, and the charge 
to be equivalent to seventy-five cents. The perfection and 
cheapness of this service — and it is true of costlier vehicles 




128 A HOLIDAY TOUR. 

a ] so — j s astonishing to an American, who is accustomed only 
to the hack systems of his own country. 

The " cabbies" are a cheerful set, always good-humored, 
always ready to impart their knowledge for the public benefit. 
They are too well controlled to take advantage of strangers. 
In fact, for an extra shilling the cabby's heart can be won for 
almost any service. He will carefully take home an obliviously 
drunken man and tenderly deposit him, with all his valuables 
intact, at his own door, and see that he is securely placed in- 
side it. But still, it does not do to depend too much on his 
abilities in this respect. Sad experience has proved that it 
does not do to trust cabby with two such persons, consigned to 
different places, unless the aforesaid persons are conspicuously 
labelled. Cabby is sure to deposit the wrong man at the wrong 
house. They gear the cab-shafts high over the horse's back, 
and this to one accustomed to our low-down gearing looks very 
odd. But it is a plan that some of our drivers may find to 
their advantage. Cabby was asked why it was done, and an- 
swered, " So the 'os won't break the shafts when he falls 
down, you know." 

The most striking English impression made on the visitor 
is, that the country is a garden. It is cultivated, wherever 
possible, in the highest degree. The green lanes, the hedges 
and smiling fields, and flower gardens and artistic little cot- 
tages are, outside the cities, a rich attraction. A railway ride 
through the country is a succession of beautiful rural views. 
Agriculture is studied and carried to the highest point. The 
crops grown are generally much heavier than ours. Wheat 
yields thirty-five to forty bushels, and sometimes more, to the 
acre, and is now being generally harvested around London. 
On the larger farms steam-plows drawn by traction-engines 
are common. A very large portion of the fields are thor- 
oughly underdrained. The richness of the agricultural evi- 
dences are pleasant to see, though we are now seeing England 
at her best, for she has better crops this summer than have 
been gathered for several years. Still, however, she looks 
across the ocean for food, as, do her best, her wheat growth is 
always far short of the demand. 



ENGLAND'S GREAT WATERING-PLACE. 129 

LETTER XXIV. 

England's great watering-place. 

Brighton, August 26. 
All England is proud of Brighton, — of its fine situation, 
great size, grand buildings, decorations, and its glories in the 
season. Taken altogether it is probably the greatest watering- 
place in the world, and everything that art and wealth can do 
to add to its attractions is lavished upon this city by the sea. 
It is within about ninety minutes' railway ride of London, on 
the southern coast of England, and the city stretches for over 
three miles along the English Channel upon a comparatively 
low shore, though in some places the cliff rises thirty or forty 
feet above the beach. Almost the entire front is protected by 
a sea-wall of greater or less height, which supports a broad 
terrace, or rather a succession of terraces on the same level. 
In front of these the sea rolls up over a rather steep pebbly 
beach whereon are bathing-machines and fishing- and pleasure- 
boats and a few pedestrians, but the walking is rough and un- 
steady. The bathing is not very good, and in fact is only one 
of the smaller attractions of Brighton, being but partially in- 
dulged in by the visitors. It has none of the comforts or 
pleasures of our New Jersey coast watering-places in this re- 
spect, for no one can take a dip in the sea to his entire satis- 
faction when his feet are tortured by such rough and unsteady 
pebbles as compose this beach. But Brighton has along the 
beach and behind the sea-walls what no other watering-place 
in the world possesses, — a grand drive, at least sixty feet wide, 
extending over three miles along the coast, with a broad prom- 
enade frequently ornamented with lawns, gardens, and flower- 
beds in front, and on the land side a succession of palaces and 
great buildings of most imposing construction, which look as 
if the Boulevards of Paris had been brought here, and their 
buildings of ornate cream-colored stone ranged along the sea. 
The city extends far back on the hill-sides and along the val- 
leys into the land, and has a population of one hundred thou- 
sand, which is frequently doubled during the season. And 
f* 



130 A HOLIDAY TOUR 

the greater part of this population crowd out upon the broad 
terraces in front known as the Marine Parade, where they ride 
or promenade, to see and be seen, and give the city a life 
and attractiveness that are all its own. When London empties 
Brighton fills up, and here come the equipages that have made 
Rotten Row famous. No ocean-border scene ever equalled in 
my eyes what the Brighton Parade last night presented, and 
yet the season is only beginning, and will not be at its height 
for some weeks yet. Before dark the crowds moved along 
between the succession of palaces and great hotels and fine 
houses, with beautifully-ornamented public squares on the land 
side, and the beach, with its terraced edge and gardens and 
flower-beds, on the other. As the night came on and the lights 
were lit, the scene gradually assumed the form of an illumina- 
tion, whilst far out over the water were the hundreds of colored 
lights on piers and vessels, making it look like a Parisian fes- 
tival. In fact, Brighton seems as if a portion of Paris had 
been brought to England, for it is not dingy and dark like 
most English towns, but light and attractive, and when the 
sun shines more of it seems to come here than to most Eng- 
lish cities. It is in the season the gayest of all places in the 
kingdom, and manages to concentrate a very large portion of 
the wealth, fashion, and aristocracy of the realm. Its hotels 
are of large size, and one of them towers nine stories high, 
and covers a large square. There are rows of similarly-con- 
structed buildings, fronting the sea, hundreds of feet long. 
Iu one case a splendid structure surrounds a square, and fronts 
the sea, extending probably fifteen hundred feet in frontage. 
Scores of new buildings of the largest size are going up, show- 
ing that the building trades have plenty to do. Millions upon 
millions of money have been laid out upon the decoration, 
construction, and ornamentation of the Marine Parade, over 
which will probably promenade during the next three months 
a large proportion of the " fast" life of England. 

The affairs of England, like those of the Romans, I am told, 
are regulated by the flight of birds. In other lands the sum- 
mer drives fashionable life out of the cities to the watering- 
places, whilst the winter brings it back again. But not so 
with England. The summer is spent in Loudon, and the 
winter in the country. Fashion decrees that when the grouse 
begin to fly in August the London season must terminate, and 



ENGLAND'S GREAT WATERING-PLACE. 131 

it must not begin until winter has bade good-by to the last 
pheasant. Hence Parliament opens in February and ends in 
August, and this marks the duration of the London season. 
The thermometer does not regulate it as with us. The hot 
weather is spent in town and the cold weather out of it. 
Therefore, in August and September, when Americans are get- 
ting back to the cities, the English are leaving them, and when 
we are coddliug around our hottest fires in town, about Christ- 
mas-time, the true Englishman will still be in the country and 
endeavoring to enjoy himself. " It is awfully absurd," said a 
distinguished Londoner to me last week, " but the flight of 
the birds decrees it." Over two hundred thousand people 
shut up their houses and left London during the week that 
followed the close of the session, August 17. Belgravia 
looked as if it had suifered a terrible collapse. Thus Brighton 
is growing at the expense of its great neighbor, and all that 
money and art can accomplish are lavished upon it to attract 
the visitor. 

Two piers extend out from the Parade, each for a thousand 
feet over the sea, and are used for promenades. At their 
ends they widen to broad platforms, sixty feet square, where 
bands play, and where at night there are, as all along the piers 
and Parade, beautiful illuminations. The older one is the 
famous Chain Pier, built as a suspension bridge and supported 
on piles. The new pier, ten years old, is grander than the 
other, and is a most spacious and ornamental structure of iron. 
Both are strong, and to either, to enjoy music and all, the ad- 
mission charge is but twopence. George IV., when Prince of 
Wales, built at Brighton a royal pavilion, in imitation of the 
Kremlin at Moscow, or, as others hold, of an East Indian 
pagoda, and embosomed in trees and surrounded by gardens, 
its curiously-knobbed, turreted, and peaked roofs present a 
remarkable appearance. But it is surplusage in a city of such 
beautiful structures to describe any. The methods of trans- 
portation are varied from those in use elsewhere, by both 
coaches and goat-wagons. In the former, round-shouldered 
men laboriously drag ancient dowagers, whilst in the latter 
the children gladly ride, being furnished double as well as 
single teams. In fact, goat-power, as a means of juvenile 
transportation, is as conspicuous at Brighton as donkey-power 
was at Scarborough ; and a Brighton goat-team, with youth- 



132 A HOLIDAY TOUR. 

ful coachman and footmen, can be engaged for a juvenile ride 
for threepence. The coachman and footmen walk, however, 
so that the goats are not overladen. Brighton has regularly 
established fire-engine stations, which are not very numerous 
in English cities, and in large letters on the outside is the an- 
nouncement that for every alarm of fire two shillings and six- 
pence will be paid. But, with the caution that is proverbial 
among Englishmen, this is supplemented by the further 
announcement that " no reward is paid for a false alarm." 

THE BRIGHTON AQUARIUM. 

Perhaps the feature of Brighton which has most world- 
wide fame is the Aquarium, and yet the stranger without a 
guide has difficulty in finding it. This comes from its pe- 
culiar location. I was consigned to a hotel " opposite the 
Aquarium." I looked out to find it, and saw across the grand 
esplanade in front, the open sea, and no Aquarium. Then, 
walking over towards the sea-wall, it suddenly opened, sunken 
below the level of the roadway, covered in and hidden by the 
sea-walls on both sides, yet stretching almost eight hundred 
feet on either hand, and a hundred feet in breadth, and sur- 
mounted by gardens and footwalks. The Aquarium, to facili- 
tate the movement of the sea-water, is set at as low a level as 
is consistent with safety, and its top presents a strange appear- 
ance, with its variegated roof of foot-paths, flowers, trap-doors, 
and skylights. This Aquarium is worthy all the fame it has, 
for it far exceeds the feebler attempts at imitation elsewhere, 
and in its interior decorations is superb. The design is to 
represent the fishes, as far as possible, in their native haunts 
and habits, and, as the presence of visitors might interfere 
with this if known, the visitors go through darkened passages, 
and are thus concealed from the fish. This makes their actions 
much more natural, and, in fact, they seem to move about with 
perfect freedom. Some of the tanks are of great size, one of 
them wherein the porpoise disports being one hundred feet 
long. Schools of herring and mackerel swim through the 
waters as they do on the Grand Bank. The octopus gyrates his 
fearful-looking arms, and gives an idea of what he may be when 
he becomes a full-grown devil fish, for these specimens are 
only about a foot long. The codfish circulates, and the whiting, 
bass, and pretty much every fish we know of, either in Eng- 



THE BRIGHTON AQUARIUM. 133 

land or America, is exhibited as in its native haunts. Here 
are those extraordinary little fellows, the sea-horses of the 
Mediterranean, which are horses' heads driven forward through 
the water by little propeller-like fins in the tail and clinging 
curiously to the coral spurs. The Aquarium is full of all sorts 
of aquatic curiosities, having American alligators, of whom an 
entire family — gentleman, lady, and two children — bask in the 
mud ; seals and sea-lions, which, like those at Fairmount Park, 
are blessed with good appetites, and a particular favorite is the 
lively little " Prince," the baby sea-lion, born last year, who 
has an especial tank devoted to his own use, because he has 
got so big that, as they told me, he occasionally " whips his 
daddy." The preparation of the tanks for the fish has been 
conducted on the most perfect and expensive scale. The seals 
and sea-lions have extensive ranges of rocks to climb upon. 
The alligators can bask in savannas and crawl through expanded 
grottos. The porpoises and larger fish are given a range of a 
hundred feet. The visitor walks through groined and vaulted 
passages, artistically decorated with colored marbles and polished 
granite, and the entire structure is prepared in the costliest 
manner, whilst music during the day and concerts in the even- 
ing add to the attractions. This is the land of cheap amuse- 
ments. A shilling is all that is charged for admission to the 
Aquarium, whilst in London the South Kensington Museum, 
which when entirely completed will cover fifty-six acres, is 
opened half the week free and the other half for sixpence. 
And all the other public institutions of the kind in England 
are on a similar basis. The Brighton Aquarium is also made 
use of to show the process of hatching trout and salmon, and 
for experiments which have greatly increased the world's stock 
of knowledge as to the habits of fish. Its tanks hold an ag- 
gregate of five hundred thousand gallons of sea and fresh 
water, and its many thousands of specimens embrace almost 
the entire range of the fish kingdom. 

Brighton stands almost on the line of one of the routes 
of travel between London and Paris, that by New Haven 
and Dieppe. It is fifteen miles from New Haven, and stop- 
over tickets are issued by the railway, which runs south from 
London through a most picturesque country, with frequent 
tunnels piercing the hills and viaducts over the valleys. As 
the south coast is approached we get into the region of wind- 

12 



134 A HOLIDAY TOUR. 

mills, their broad sail-like arras surmounting almost every hill- 
top. Here graze the sheep that provide that famous English 
meat, the Southdown mutton. Here feed the black cows that 
in this country seem to outnumber those of all other colors. 
Here are the broad acres of grass land, underdrained and cul- 
tivated as carefully as possible, which feed these famous meats, 
and which are valued in some cases as high as two thousand 
and two thousand five hundred dollars an acre. Bordering 
them the chalk cliffs slope down to the English Channel, 
across which is this year's Mecca for the American trav- 
eller — the Paris Exhibition. But the crossing is a treach- 
erous one, and, though there have been many attempts made 
to improve the means of transportation, none as yet have 
driven off the Channel malady of sea-sickness. Both the 
Dover and New Haven routes, however, are provided with 
better steamers than those of ten years ago, and the terrors of 
the Channel passage are therefore to some extent mitigated. 



LETTER XXV. 

CROSSING THE CHANNEL. 

Paris, August 29. 
As one approaches Paris he is reminded of the Centennial 
times, of the overloading of railway trains, and the frantic 
zeal of transportation people to compress humanity into con- 
tracted spaces ; of the ability to pay much for little, and the 
natural weakness of mankind in business affairs to make hay 
while the sun shines. All that we did in Philadelphia at this 
sort of thing in 1876, and more, they have been doing in and 
on the road to Paris, — I say, " have been," for the public have 
been finding them out, and thus making the evil work its own 
cure in many respects. The visitor from England first strikes 
the Exhibition influence at the Channel, and the American 
visitor, with his experience of the Centennial, is at once im- 
pressed with the inability of some of the railway and steam- 
boat people to handle vast crowds when suddenly cast upon 
them. They do it with skill at London, where the crowds are 



CROSSING THE CHANNEL. 135 

steady and the traffic enormous but uniform ; but they sadly 
need an American lesson in transportation, in getting visitors 
across the Channel from London to Paris. Here are the two 
great cities of the world, and yet no American travels between 
them without feeling that the railway managers of his country 
could teach a lesson in transportation if their own clever ideas 
were only adapted to the purpose. There are three routes, — 
by Dover and Calais, Folkestone and Boulogne, and New 
Haven and Dieppe. The first two are practically the same. 
Ten years ago the service across the Channel was simply dis- 
graceful. Now they have better steamers, but they cannot 
properly manage the increased traffic. It has poured in upon 
them in such streams as to overwhelm them. Therefore the 
journey is as miserable as ever, but in a different way. In 
the course of this correspondence, I have been generally a 
sincere admirer of the great abilities displayed throughout the 
British dominions, both in land and sea navigation, but the 
nation that has made the wonderful railways centring at Lon- 
don, and has dug out the Clyde as the Scotch have done, are 
nonplussed by the Channel. They say they cannot remedy it 
except by a tunnel, and although they have improved the 
steamers, yet they have not much improved the passage. 
Here is certainly a case in which Americans could teach a 
lesson, and either President Scott or President Gowen could 
send a score of men of railroad genius over here from their 
staffs who could work out a solution of the problem. 

The best route to cross is by Calais and Dover, simply be- 
cause it is the shortest Channel-passage, and the company, 
knowing this, extracts nearly twice as much fare. The New 
Haven and Dieppe route, aware of the competition, has this 
year tried to meet it, by putting on two new steamers, — de- 
scribed as the largest, most powerfully constructed and best- 
appointed vessels that cross the Channel. They are the largest, 
but still are small, and they are swift and strong, as the Clyde 
build of steamers usually are, — but they are no nearer meeting 
the Channel problem in Exhibition times than were the old, 
miserable, little craft that formerly crossed the Channel with 
passengers, and which we would not tolerate for the Smith's 
Island ferry. The Dover route, after having failed with the 
ship which had a suspended saloon, is now trying the steamer 
Calais-Douvres with twin hulls, but which does not seem to 



136 A HOLIDAY TOUR. 

do much better. None of these things, however, can be 
learnt in the advertisements, for their adjectives are all of the 
other kind, and the poor mortal who ventures on the boats 
learns to his sorrow that printer's ink sometimes don't tell 
the truth. The Channel-crossing accommodations are only 
provided for a certain amount of traffic, and there is no elas- 
ticity in them to accommodate a rush. It is the rush that the 
management are unable to deal with. All the methods of 
making the transportation better seem to be directed to the 
single point of endeavoring to avoid sea-sickness. Instead of 
recognizing sea-sickness as a fact, and endeavoring to amelior- 
ate the condition of the passenger, they go on experimenting 
with hulls that won't work, instead of trying to make the pas- 
senger comfortable. What is wanted is comfort and cleanli- 
ness and more room, but these things are as sadly neglected 
in the new steamers as in the old. A little Yankee invention 
would do a world of good, if applied to the methods of cross- 
ing the Channel. 

On the night I crossed the Channel from New Haven to 
Dieppe by the line of direct travel, but the longest sea-route, 
there was an excursion taken over. This, which was one of 
the regular excursions made weekly by the railway from Lou- 
don, and could be anticipated and measured by the manage- 
ment, probably doubled the number of passengers, and trans- 
portation had to be provided for about twelve hundred per- 
sons. An American railway manager does not fear any such 
number as this even on ordinary trains, but it seems to have 
been too much for the people managing this line. They got 
four steamers in readiness to carry them over the Channel, 
and were telegraphing all the evening between London and 
New Haven about the arrangements. I naturally supposed 
from the glowing advertisements that state-room accommoda- 
tions were easy to obtain, but was amazed at the discovery 
that the steamers on this line had only two state-rooms apiece, 
— one holding two and the other four persons, and that one 
cost five dollars and the other eight dollars for the night in 
addition to the fare. Thus twenty-four persons could get 
special accommodations, whilst the remainder had to pass 
the night in the saloons or on deck. The train came down 
from London in sections, and there was a rush on board the 
steamers at midnight, and a scramble for the chance of lying 



CROSSING THE CHANNEL. 137 

on the sofas. All classes took part in the scramble, and evi- 
dently seemed accustomed to it. There were not sofa accom- 
modations for one-fourth the people, and the others had to lie 
on the floors or take refuge on the decks, without cover, and 
these were ultimately driven into the companion-ways by the 
rain. Women with first-class tickets thus passed the night 
partly on deck and partly crouching or standing in the com- 
panion-ways. Then there was all sorts of trouble in getting 
the steamers off, for the task seemed too much to cope with. 
Finally, long after midnight, one after another, they sailed, 
and crossed the Channel. But such a crossing ! Four out of 
five passengers got sick, and the discomforts were appalling. 
Herded together like cattle, the scene, when dawn came over 
the saloon and disclosed the confused mixture of passengers, 
wash-basins, portmanteaus, sofa-cushions, bags, beer-bottles, 
and boxes, was saddening. If it had been an American enter- 
prise the captain would have run the risk of lynching. But 
not being American, the passengers growled and threatened to 
make complaints, and that ended it. With the peculiar per- 
tinacity of John Bull in any cause which he espouses, the 
solitary waiter allotted to the saloon persisted in serving out 
beer as long as there was any stomach left in condition to 
hold it, and then even the English could stand it no longer, 
but drove him and his bottles out with a volley of curses. 
The ladies' saloon in the morning produced a woe-begone 
party, who had tried to crowd in a place only half large 
enough to hold them. Thus passed a miserable night in a 
good sea-boat, swift and strong, but with wretched accom- 
modations, entirely unfit for passengers who were expected 
to be sea-sick, and redolent with the questionable perfumes 
that aggravate the disorder, yet could be readily removed 
if there were proper attention to cleanliness. Then, in the 
morning, the passengers, tired, worn out, and anxious for 
lest and a particularly good breakfast, were poured upon the 
landing at Dieppe, with very little accommodations for break- 
fast and no waiting-rooms to speak of. They overflowed the 
" buffet," as the meagre restaurant is called, and swarmed 
out into the cafes of the neighborhood. They could get little 
to eat but cold ham. That was almost the sum total of the 
larder, and it would have been a rare treat to a student of 
physiognomy to have watched the countenances of those sea- 

12* 



138 A HOLIDAY TOUR. 

sick passengers as the broad slices of fat ham were placed 
before them, flanked by coffee that ought to have been good, 
but had suffered sadly by dilution. Imagine such a meal for 
the delicate stomach of the convalescing victim of mal de mer. 
It was their first introduction to that art praised throughout 
the world — French cuisine; and as it was, there was not 
room in the buffet for half of them, or comfortable places for 
any. There were few satisfactory breakfasts taken that morn- 
ing, even though they were served in la belle France, and by 
French servants — in soiled clothing. So long as the sun 
shone, however, the situation could be endured, because it had 
to be, and the demoralized passengers could saunter along the 
dock and watch the stevedores unload the cargo from the 
steamers. But it began to rain, and then there was flight 
for shelter. There was little room and no accommodations in 
the station, and most of the people fled into the freight-sheds, 
where they perched themselves upon boxes and casks, and sat 
up in empty fish-baskets, endeavoring to overcome the per- 
fume by vigorous applications of hartshorn. Then could be 
heard, in all the tongues which originated at the Tower of 
Babel, expressions of very decided opinion about the charac- 
ter of that route to Paris. The necessity of getting language 
sufficiently strong to meet the case did good to the sick, how- 
ever, for it started the blood into circulation and revived their 
spirits. It was amusing to see how the railway officials and 
the steamboat people kept away from the station. Even the 
woman who had been charging the passengers ten cents apiece 
for the doubtful privilege of washing their faces in a lot of 
dirty wash-basins, disappeared before this tempest. The rain 
poured down ; the passengers huddled together among the 
freight packages, and thus wore away hours, — for the Western 
Railway of France, as much nonplussed as the steamers by 
the crowd thrust upon them, was unable to get up a railway 
train sufficiently capacious to carry it. I have read about Job 
and how he triumphed over many tests of patience, but doubt 
if that extraordinary man's reputation would have successfully 
survived a journey across the English Channel. Be that as it 
may, however, there was not one in all that crowd who was in 
condition to assume the role of Job. There they waited, each 
passing the time according to the fashion of his nationality 
when supremely disgusted. The sick women tried to get rest 



CROSSING THE CHANNEL. 139 

by reclining over fish-baskets ; whilst the Americans, with 
that spirit which is characteristic of the race, discussed with a 
very liberal sprinkling of " cuss-words" the bad characters of 
the steamboat and railway corporations, and the feasibility 
either of tarring and feathering the management, or else of 
establishing (on borrowed money) a rival line. Finally, after 
three hours of waiting, the long-delayed train appeared. Then 
there was a rush for seats. No Cossack horde or Indian foray 
ever swooped down upon their prey with greater vigor than 
that crowd of worn-out, draggled, and disgusted passengers 
rushed through the rain for the railway train. It was about 
one minute of scrambling, shouting, scuffling, and quarrelling, 
and then it was settled that the train was not big enough to 
hold them all, and as it was, many of the first-class passengers 
had to be content with second- and third-class accommoda- 
tions. One robust Englishman, who was too dignified to 
enter into the scuffle, was endeavoring to expound his rights, 
but a drenching shower came along and he rushed for shelter 
into a third-class carriage. Then there was more delay before 
the train got started, for accommodation had to be found for 
the people who could not get in, and every available carriage 
was scoured out of the yard to give it. Then it was discov- 
ered that the train was too heavy for the engines, and after 
more delay it was cut into sections. Finally we got off, — late 
and behind time, — but the sun came out and somewhat cheered 
the drooping spirits. But such a getting to the Exposition I 
do not think any of the passengers would like to experience 
again. I am quite sure that if there was anything like the 
American ingenuity of 1876 devoted to this purpose, these 
railways and steamers could get their excursions from London 
to Paris in comfort. Here is a case where the Exposition has 
been opened nearly four months, with this kind of extra de- 
mand for transportation recurring at regular intervals, and yet 
they do not seem to be able to cope with it, though the excur- 
sion-party was comparatively only a small one, and but a frac- 
tion compared with those that our transportation managers 
handled daily and with ease in 1876. What these people 
want is better attention to the comfort of the passengers. They 
could, with a small part of the ingenuity shown at Dublin, 
Glasgow, or Belfast, make the landing-places on the Channel 
capacious enough lor large steamers. These steamers, with an 



140 A HOLIDAY TOUR. 

adaptation of the same methods employed elsewhere, could be 
made comfortable for the passengers. JSo American would 
think of putting day-boats on a night-line ; and yet this is 
practically what is done. Nor would an American steamboat- 
man think of putting passengers on decks unprotected even by 
awnings, — yet these boats do not always have awnings, and 
when they do, the allowance is almost too meagre to speak of. 

FROM DIEPPE TO PARIS. 

The railway journey from Dieppe through Rouen and up 
the Seine to Paris is by far the most picturesque of the routes 
from the Channel, passing through a succession of attractive 
landscapes, all peculiarly French, in the chateaus, cottages, and 
rows of trees along the roads and field hedges. Here the 
women go about in white caps and wooden shoes, and the men 
in blue smock frocks. The railway discloses many beautiful 
scenes along the Seine, and finally comes in through the par- 
tially dismantled fortifications on the northern border of Paris 
to the station at St. Lazare. Here the Customs and Octroi, 
as at Dieppe, have an examination, which is, probably, the most 
incomplete examination ever made by customs officer. He 
approaches, dressed like a field-marshal, with waxed moustache 
and pointed goatee, and saying something which you don't 
understand, you answer something which he don't understand, 
and then, with a grunt and a shrug, he puts a hieroglyphic in 
chalk upon the trunk (without looking into it) and the per- 
formance is over. I saw those huge Saratoga trunks, which 
only Americans indulge in, thus passed without being opened, 
for in France the influence of an American countenance and 
the American style of talking French is magical. But the 
customs revenue might, nevertheless, suffer from such laxity. 
Thus ended the journey across the Channel, — taken, as I knew, 
by the least comfortable, but most picturesque route of the 
three, — but what should not an American sacrifice to get to 
that city where it is said all good Americans hope to go when 
they die ? To some, however, the crossing of the Channel may 
even then be too great a price to pay for it. 



SOME PARISIAN IMPRESSIONS. 141 

LETTER XXVI. 

SOME PARISIAN IMPRESSIONS. 

Paris, August 30. 

Two prominent impressions are this year made upon the 
visitor to Paris. One that a very large portion of the popu- 
lation of the city are Americans, and the other that the gay 
appearance of the city has suffered from the downfall of the 
Imperial regime. Whilst all races are represented just now in 
Paris, for its attractions, permanent and special, are designed 
to and always do draw visitors from all lands, yet this year it 
is the general remark that Americans have come to Paris in 
greater numbers than any other people. They have heard that 
everything has risen to enormous prices, and, being of an in- 
quiring turn of mind, have come to investigate the matter, and 
in order to make the investigation more thorough, and to get 
evidence on the subject that is the more complete, they are 
paying these high prices in all directions. Everywhere one 
goes in Paris Americans are met, and the universality of their 
presence is shown by the shops putting up American signs. 
It used to be the English that were thus catered to, but the 
French draw a distinction now between the English and the 
Americans, and, having a keen appreciation of the value of 
American money, and of the proneness of the race to lavish 
expenditure, they endeavor to attract them as much as pos- 
sible. In fact, our countrymen have this year overrun the 
whole of western Europe, and scores of hotels are flying the 
American flag because the majority of their guests come from 
across the Atlantic. 

But Paris does not exhibit the gayety that was the rule 
before the downfall of Napoleon. In the heyday of Impe- 
rialism the magnificent equipages that crowded the streets and 
the Bois de Boulogne were one of the great attractions of the 
city. The Champs Elysees was then an almost endless pano- 
rama of grand turnouts, and, so far as stylish horseflesh, and 
grand trappings, and gorgeous liveries and equipages could do 
it, the visitor was impressed with the splendor of the Court. 



142 A HOLIDAY TOUR. 

Now all this is ended. The nobles have put away their 
grandeur and ride about, when they do ride, in simpler style. 
There are no more four-horse teams, excepting occasionally 
in omnibuses. The footmen and lackeys have mostly dis- 
appeared. The streets are as full of lite as ever, and are 
crowded sometimes to repletion, but there is not that flavor of 
overpowering rank and aristocracy that formerly almost over- 
whelmed the visitor to the Champs Elysees and the Bois de 
Boulogne. The American can pay as much for his coach now 
as ever, but he cannot get such stunning turnouts as were 
formerly available for our petroleum and bonanza princes, 
whose well-filled purses are always open and gladdening the 
hearts of impecunious Frenchmen. The American goes to 
the Bois now, generally in a " one-hoss shay," and finds that 
most others do likewise. In nothing has the advent of the 
French Republic made a more marked change in French cus- 
toms than in the enforced moderation of equipage. Even the 
President hesitates about getting into a four-horse coach, and 
no one, be he of high or low degree, ventures upon trappings 
or gaudy display. The revulsion from the lavish exuberance 
of the Imperial Court is marked indeed. 

THE CHAMPS ELYSEES. 

But whilst it has lost its grand equipages, the Avenue of 
the Champs Elysees still stands without a rival as the finest 
street in the world. It has lost no other attraction, but has 
gained vastly by the application of the electric light, which 
will soon be in full operation all along the avenue, from the 
Tuileries Gardens to the Arch of Triumph. There is no 
more splendid scene than that presented by this great street 
when fully illuminated. The Frenchman loves display, and 
on this street are provided every possible appliance, by gas- 
lamp, electric light, or other device, which can in any way be 
permanently fixed, that will illuminate it. A broad avenue 
gradually sloping up to the Arch, with gardens on either hand, 
fountains playing, myriads of rows of lamps, illuminated 
concert-gardens blazing with light, thousands of carriages 
with their brilliant lamps, flitting about like so many fireflies ; 
the piercingly radiant stars of the electric light interspersed 
among the others, and shining in clusters from afar around 
the Arch; this scene, when one stands in the Place de la 



THE PARISIAN RECEPTION. 143 

Concorde and looks along the street towards the Arch, is 
unequalled anywhere. Here in times of festival concentrates 
all the splendor of Paris. Here is the artistic centre of the 
city, and here flock the people when on holidays and fete 
days they wish to make a celebration. Along it the dazzled 
American loves to ramble and wonder, if Paris can put street- 
lamps in rows twenty feet apart, why something like it cannot 
be done in some parts of his own dimly-lighted cities. Here, 
in picturesque costume, are seen the people of all lands, like 
a greatly enlarged stage setting for an opera chorus, in their 
clothes of many colors. Here wanders the bicycle with its 
red and green lights of warning ; and sometimes the patient 
peasants, men and women, slowly dragging wagon-loads that 
would do credit to a horse. The scene at night is one of 
enchantment almost, and it goes on far into the morning 
hours before the cafes close and the lights go out and Paris 
goes to bed. This great street is the personification of the 
French idea ; for all the beauties of trees and flowers, foun- 
tains, statues, gardens, and illumination, are combined to make 
it as attractive and as beautiful as such a street can be made. 
The object has certainly been accomplished, and there could 
have been no more thorough badge of submission than the 
German conqueror imposed, when, on the surrender of Paris, 
he marched his victorious troops under the Arch of Triumph 
and along this great street. It was practically the occupation 
of Paris, and was so intended. 

THE PARISIAN RECEPTION. 

But admiring Parisian beauty and endeavoring to get along 
in Paris are two different things. The American discovers, 
as soon as he lands at the railway station, that he is practi- 
cally deaf and dumb. He can speak and he can hear, but it 
avails not. He may be a graduate of a French academy, but 
American-taught French is not the kind spoken here. The 
earliest encounter is with the railway porter, who overwhelms 
with a perfect Niagara of gibberish the unfortunate traveller 
who, in the polished language taught at French schools at 
home, politely requests that his trunk be taken to a carriage. 
The porter evidently does not understand French ; neither does 
the cab-driver. You tell him in your best accent the destina- 
tion, and the result, after a long parley, is a consultation with 



144 A HOLIDAY TOUR. 

a half-dozen other cabbies, each wearing a shiny high hat that 
almost dazzles in the sunlight, and their combined knowledge 
of French is at last sufficient to designate you in somewhat 
contemptuous tones as an "Anglais." Everybody that the 
Frenchman does not like, seems to be an "Anglais." This 
insinuation of English nativity you repel with scorn. You 
casually mention the word "American," and the problem is 
solved. Cabby seizes your trunk and thrusts you into the 
coach. Americans are proverbially good pay, — lavish pay in 
fact. He is sure of his money, and knowing where you want 
to go is a comparatively small matter. He will willingly drive 
you all over town whilst you search over the " phrase-book" 
to talk to him, and endeavor to unravel the mystery of where 
you are going ; it will swell up the fare that he knows will be 
paid. And he knows further that whilst his foe, the " Anglais," 
has spent weeks previously in calculating how low cab-fares can 
be got, and will not only abuse him, but probably take him to 
a police court, if he mistakes the distance, the American will 
as probably pay an extra franc for every mistake made, and 
let him keep all the change into the bargain. "American" 
is a cabalistic word in France. It opens the hearts of cus- 
toms officials, railway employes, and cabmen ; it smooths over 
probably more bad French in a day than any other race utters 
in a month ; and it puts up prices fifty per cent, for every 
polite shop-keeper. How they smile as the untutored Ameri- 
can visitor enters their doors to examine the apparently very 
cheap wares, which the high tariff makes so dear when im- 
ported into his own home ! and you pay well in Paris for all 
the politeness. 

THE PARISIAN HOME. 

If you go to a hotel, there you find English spoken, and 
get a very small room, very high up both in location and price. 
If you go into lodgings money is saved in Paris, but it re- 
quires experience to learn how to do it. The hotel gives an 
idea of hotel life as it is everywhere seen, but the lodginga 
show the true Parisian life. There is rarely such "a thing in 
Paris as a family having a house to itself, so that the method 
of living here is as completely the opposite of the Philadel- 
phia method as it is possible to be. The families live on 
" flats" ; that is, each has a suite of rooms on one floor. There 



THE PARISIAN HOME. 145 

may in this way be twenty families in one house, yet each will 
be provided with parlor, chambers, dining-room, kitchen, and 
front door. The idea of twenty front doors to one house is 
amusing, yet the house I live in has about that number, for it 
has twenty suites of apartments and would accommodate as 
many families. First, is the great door at the street, which is 
more like a gateway than a door, and inside which presides 
the "concierge," that important Parisian being who guards 
the safety and keeps the keys, and endeavors to pry into the 
letters of all the families in the house. From her apartments 
there ascends a winding stair, which leads on its way to the 
roof to a succession of front doors, each with a door-bell. 
Get admission inside one, and it will be seen how cosily the 
Parisians live and how completely isolated each family is from 
every other in the house. The servants come in the morning 
and go away when the work is done at night. The cooking is 
done with charcoal, easily ignited and as easily put out when 
no longer needed. The food that is wanted is bought from 
meal to meal ; and the care with which Mademoiselle, who 
takes the contract to provide the meals, counts noses in fur- 
nishing the same would win admiration anywhere. There is 
one piece of beefsteak, or one chop, or one egg, or one roll, as 
the case may be, for each person. The French have discov- 
ered in the metrical system the true principle of measure, and 
it is the most exact and geometrically accurate system that can 
be devised. They do nothing by halves, but, with the zealous 
nature of their race, they apply the system throughout. There- 
fore, exactly four accurately square lumps of sugar are allotted 
.to each person for tea or coffee, and the cognac bottle, if you 
indulge in it, has a gauge cut into the glass to disclose the 
amount imbibed. One teaspoon, one knife, one fork, one 
everything, for each individual is the table setting, and if you 
borrow a spoon to give jam after meals to the children, Made- 
moiselle organizes a Congressional investigating committee to 
inquire its whereabouts. We requested fried potatoes, and 
got exactly five slices apiece ; tomatoes, and were given one 
uncut whole one each. The same veneration for the tomato 
which I observed in England prevails in France. It is evi- 
dently a royal dish, to be partaken of sparingly by the un- 
auointed. If the Frenchman eats them, he buys probably one 
or two, and gives one slice to each of his family. To want a 
a 13 



146 A HOLIDAY TOUR. 

quarter of a peck for a single meal, as in an unguarded mo- 
ment we ventured to suggest, was an evidence of American 
extravagance that almost overcame Mademoiselle's weak nerves. 
This accurate system of providing meals is the universal rule 
of the French in their own households, and it promotes the 
thrift for which this great people are so noted. They get just 
what they want to use and no more. There is no waste. 
Everything is consumed. The lavishness of supply which 
promotes unthrift in so many American households is the 
exact opposite of the French idea ; and herein is the secret 
of the ability of the French to live well and yet to spend so 
little. It would do good if some of these ideas were taught 
at home. 

But, after all, the paramount idea impressed upon the visitor 
to Paris is, that the greatest misfortune which befell mankind 
was what happened at the Tower of Babel. If these people, 
thinks the visitor, could only talk something that we under- 
stand how much better it would be. I have seen the utterly 
demoralized American expatiate on street-corners in the purest 
and most energetic English ; but in vain. What a glorious 
thing it would be if all mankind spoke the same language ! 
How much trouble it would save ; how much anxiety ; how 
much time spent in study ! How easy it would make the 
traveller's path ! Yet such a millennium will probably never 
come ; and until the end of time Paris will witness the lin- 
guistic struggle of French-speaking Americans who have 
learned the language perfectly at home, yet who when they 
get here are so uufortunate as to continually fall in with a 
class of people who persist in not understanding French a* it 
ought to be spoken. 



A SUNDAY IN PARIS. 147 

LETTER XXVII. 

A SUNDAY IN PARIS. 

Paris, September 2. 

A Sunday in Paris is as thoroughly unlike a Sunday in 
Philadelphia as it is possible to be. Work goes on here the 
same as on a week-day ; the shops are almost all open ; the 
wagons, laden with goods, go about the streets ; people attend 
to nearly all their avocations, and until noon they work just 
the same as if it were a week-day. After mid-day, however, 
everything closes, excepting the cafes and the newspaper offices, 
— for the evening papers all come out on Sunday with their 
raciest editions, — and the city takes a holiday. I suppose 
that some of the Parisians go to church on Sunday, but it 
really seems as if church-going was the least matter thought 
of «by most of the people. They have their horse-races and 
their elections on Sunday ; their theatres and operas give the 
best performances in the evening ; and the Exposition on 
Sunday draws its largest crowds. In fact, the day is treated 
as a day for extra merry-making, and as a holiday which is 
to be made the best use of for the public amusement. This 
is the French idea of Sunday, and it is as entirely unlike our 
idea as two dissimilar things can possibly be. All the great 
French festivals are celebrated on Sunday ; and it is the day 
when the largest crowds can be attracted, and when the public, 
by turning out in the largest numbers, make those great dis- 
plays for which Paris is famous. 

All the shops being open on Sunday morning in Paris, this 
peculiar people, who live only from hand to mouth, first bought 
their breakfasts, and then went out to buy their dinners. They 
first invested in a little bunch of kindling-wood to start the 
fire with, and then in a little bag of charcoal to keep it going. 
The person who bought more than a day or two's supply of 
fuel, would be looked upon as a foe to the State, so fixed is 
the public habit of buying only enough for the day. The 
kindling-wood and charcoal-shops are as prominent and numer- 
ous along the streets as any others, and they display their 



148 A HOLIDAY TOUR. 

goods in the windows as attractively as possible, the kindling- 
wood neatly tied in small bundles sold at one and a half cents 
apiece, the coal, in square blocks, and the charcoal, in bags, 
varying from ten to fifty cents apiece. If firewood is wanted 
by some aristocrat, who is bold enough to establish a fireplace, 
he pays for it at the rate of about two cents a stick, and he 
buys just enough to last till the dinner is over and the company 
bids farewell in the evening. In food the range is somewhat 
restricted, the Parisian buying almost everything by weight, 
at so much for the kilogramme, which corresponds to nearly 
two and one-third pounds. Reducing the prices paid to Ameri- 
can money, and the purchases to pounds, it is found that 
Parisians pay about forty-two cents per pound for veal, thirty- 
six cents for ordinary rump-steak, and forty to sixty cents for 
beef-steak ; thirty-five to forty cents for mutton-chops, thirty- 
eight cents for leg of mutton, sixty-four cents for coffee, one 
dollar to one dollar and twenty cents for ordinary tea, four and 
a half cents for bread, fifty cents for butter, forty-eight cents 
for ordinary ham, and seventy cents for boiled ham sold in 
slices at the shops (the usual way in which it is bought) ;• fif- 
teen cents for loaf-sugar broken into the accurately square lumps 
universally used here ; about eight cents a quart for milk, 
four cents each for tomatoes, and twelve cents a half-peck for 
potatoes. These are the usual prices now paid for these articles, 
and although the list does not include all, it shows the high 
prices at which most articles of food are sold in Paris. This is 
due not only to the increased charges consequent upon the Ex- 
hibition, but also to the " octroi," or city customs, Paris levy- 
ing a heavy duty upon almost everything brought into the city, 
in order to raise revenue. But, with these very high prices, 
the Parisians can still live more cheaply than in most other 
places, owing to the small value of the articles of food they 
subsist upon, and the absence of wastefulness. I clo not sup- 
pose there was a dinner, outside of a hotel, served in Paris 
yesterday (Sunday), of which the food that composed it was not 
bought at the shops and markets on Sunday morning. This 
important business over, the populace started for the day's 
amusement, — to the Exposition, to the theatres and cafes, to 
the Boulevards or to Versailles. It being the great fete day 
at Versailles, the first Sunday in the month, at least two hun- 
dred thousand people directed their steps to that famous city 



PALACE AND GARDENS OF VERSAILLES. 149 

and palace, but Paris could readily spare them, for, including 
the strangers attracted by the Exposition, there are probably 
three million population here now. 

THE PALACE AND GARDENS OF VERSAILLES. 

On the first Sunday of the month the great fountains are 
set in motion at Versailles, and, as these are the most famous 
fouutains in the world, the event naturally attracts a vast con- 
course. This grand palace, built by the great monarch of 
France, Louis XIV., to eclipse every other in Europe, is about 
twelve miles west of Paris. There are many means of access 
to it, and the railways have to provide for an enormous travel 
on the fete days, for the crowds that go out from Paris on these 
occasions are extraordinary. We are told that the palace, gar- 
dens, park, fountains, and ornamentation which were nearly 
forty years in construction after 1650, cost the enormous sum 
of two hundred million dollars, and that the heavy taxes thus 
imposed upon France were the original cause of the first 
French revolution, which came a century after. These struc- 
tures certainly are one of the greatest sights of Europe, and 
when overflowed by the Parisian population, as was the case 
yesterday, present a scene of most wonderful character. From 
noon until sunset the people poured into the park in droves. 
Every avenue was a mass of humanity, which swarmed through 
the palace and gardens, and filled up the accessible portions 
of the enormous park, yet still maintained the best order. 
The railways despatched their huge trains as fast as they could 
be made up, and vast crowds besieged the ticket-offices and en- 
trances all the afternoon. The fete culminated at five in the 
afternoon, when all the great fountains were set in motion, 
throwing enormous amounts of water, and doing it in the 
most unique, fantastic, and attractive ways. All the scenery 
on the broad terraces and spreading lawns of Versailles culmi- 
nates in fountains, which appear in all directions, and throw 
out their spray in great clouds to leeward. Imagine a broad 
palace, fronting over sixteen hundred feet, with terraces spread- 
ing out in front and on either hand ; the terraces bordered by 
beautiful gardens with embowered walks and ornamental shade- 
trees ; the gardens running down to lovely sheets of water ; and 
in every vista view, as well as on every broad terrace, a fountain, 
most of them being of large size and very elaborate design. 
" 18- 



150 A HOLIDAY TOUR. 

Then fill up all the palace, and the terraces, gardens, and walks 
with a dense mass of humanity, and there can be some idea 
formed of yesterday at Versailles. It was like the Pennsyl- 
vania day at the Philadelphia Exhibition ; and the getting 
home at night was one of those problems of transportation 
that only great railway-men on great occasions know how to 
cope with. 

The palace is a wondrous structure, with its miles of gal- 
leries of paintings and sculpture ; its great ornamented halls, 
some of them hundreds of feet long ; its outward ornaments 
of statuary, vases, and bronzes ; its orangery, with acres cov- 
ered with orange-trees in boxes, ready for removal if frost 
threatens ; its grand avenues of approach through columns of 
tall poplars, or the arched coverings of more spreading trees ; 
its path-borders of closely-trimmed yew and box ; its lakes, 
canals, flower-beds, and the great surrounding expanse of 
forest where the deer still roam, ready for the huntsmen. 
Days could be spent in wandering through this palace, gardens, 
and park, and in viewing the Trianons, the smaller palaces in 
the park built by the kings of France for their mistresses, but 
which later became the embodiment of the warmest remem- 
brances of Napoleon and Josephine, and the unfortunate Marie 
Antoinette ; or in examining the huge, gilded carriages of state, 
gaudily ornamented, which cost millions of dollars, and which 
were the carriers of royalty in the days of both Napoleons. 
These carriages, with the gay harness and caparisons of the 
horses hung up in glass cases near them, are considered pre- 
cious by the French. But though they go to Versailles to 
admire them, woe to the official who now dares ride in them ! 
They are not for these days of republican simplicity, and the 
Parisian who goes to Versailles to worship these gilded coaches 
would probably stoue the President if he were caught riding 
in them. 

The journey to Versailles is not only picturesque, but full 
of historical interest. If by the railway on the north side of 
the Seine, it goes through a country that was the battle-ground 
between France and Germany, and afterwards between France 
and the Commune. The railway, after leaving St. Lazare 
Station, rises to high ground and makes a long semi-circular 
sweep around the western portion of Paris, with all its great 
structures in full view. There ri.se up against the sky the 



PALACE AND GARDENS OF VERSAILLES. 151 

three objects which are prominent from whatever direction 
Paris may be approached, if the visitor gets on elevated 
ground, — the Arch of Triumph, the Dome of the Invalides, 
where Napoleon I. is buried, and the towering columns of the 
Trocadero Palace of the Exposition. Far away across the 
valley of the Seine, which winds among the most carefully- 
cultivated gardens, these three great structures are seen, and 
to the east of them the heights of Montmartre, and to the 
west, the great hill on which stands Mont St. Valerien, the 
strongest fortress of Paris. It was this fortress that poured 
iron hail all along the line of the railway, and that, with the 
counter-fire of the Communists, so badly devastated all the 
western and northwestern suburbs of Paris. Yet almost 
every trace of the havoc of war is obliterated, and the only 
vestige remaining is the patch, here and there, seen upon some 
building that was riddled by canuon-shot. Then the railway 
takes a turn, and going through Courbevoie, west of Paris, 
where there was fierce fighting, passes close to the foot of 
Mont St. Valerien, and thence on past St. Cloud to Versailles. 
I suppose this railway, which is only one of the lines to that 
city, yesterday carried one hundred thousand people, making 
up and despatching trains as fast as they could be filled and 
started. Its capacity was greatly increased by having two- 
storied cars, taking as many passengers on the roof as inside, 
both men and women climbing cheerfully up to that altitude, 
and filling up the cars almost as quickly as they got into the 
station. The French, like the Americans, very easily adapt 
themselves to circumstances, and accept the situation with 
cheerfulness. Easily pleased, they thus went in droves to see 
the Versailles fountains play. Yet there was no overcrowding. 
Every car and omnibus had its exact complement fixed by law, 
and no one attempted to exceed it. No one stood up, or, when 
the vehicle was legally " full," attempted to thrust in. Five 
hundred people may have waited at a street corner for an om- 
nibus, but each on getting there took from the omnibus office 
a number, so that the first that came had the best numbers 
and got the first seats, without pushing, crowding, and quar- 
relling. It was not a grand American rush, in which the 
active and muscular triumphed and the women and children 
were sent to the rear. 

In the evening the Exposition and Versailles sent their 



152 A HOLIDAY TOUR. 

crowds back to Paris, and then there was a general flocking 
to the brilliantly-lighted Champs Elysees. Here, with cafes 
in full operation, carriages moving, thousands promenading, 
Sunday evening was spent. There was general liveliness, and 
some hilarity, but no drunkenness. The Frenchman cannot 
get intoxicated on thin and sour claret at twenty cents per 
quart-bottle, which is his great drink ; neither can he upon 
the five or six cent " bock" of very weak beer, with which he 
usually winds up the evening. He may sing and make merry, 
but he never loses his steadiness or good humor. The more 
he imbibes the more intensely republican become his senti- 
ments, and the more anxious he is to pay off certain scores 
against Germany. But his politeness remains as polished as 
ever, and when he goes to bed he sleeps peacefully, with a 
thorough confidence in his own ability to match the world. 



LETTER XXVIII. 

A FRENCH CEMETERY. 

Paris, September 4. 
The 3d of September was the anniversary of the death of 
M. Thiers, and it was marked by a solemn ceremony in the 
Cathedral of Notre Dame at noon for the repose of his soul, 
whence a funeral procession afterwards escorted Madame 
Thiers to his tomb. The great church was magnificently 
decorated and crowded to repletion by thousands of people, 
including all the strangers in Paris who could possibly get 
tickets of admission. A solemn high mass for the dead, with 
the impressive ceremonial of the Church, when celebrated 
for the repose of the soul of so great a man, is no ordinary 
service, and it attracted a crowd outside of probably a hun- 
dred thousand persons, but the police arrangements were per- 
fect, and they kept the crowd fully a square away from the 
church in all directions, so as to allow the invited persons free 
movement. I was invited to the church, but preferred to go 
and see what we do not see in America, — the way in which 
the French pay homage at a great man's tomb on the anni- 
versary of his death. M. Thiers is buried at Pere la Chaise, 



A FRENCH CEMETERY. 153 

and thither I went. It seemed, however, as if almost all 
Paris was going in the same direction judging by the crowds 
passing into this famous cemetery. The " Cemetery of the 
East," or of " Pere la Chaise," the- more popular title which 
it takes from the old confessor of Louis XIV., who lived 
there, stands upon the sides and top of a hill in the north- 
eastern part of Paris. It is of great extent, containing over 
twenty thousand tombs, and from the higher ground there is 
a fine view of the city. All the streets approaching it seem 
to be monopolized by the trades which are intimately con- 
nected with the cemeteries, — the undertakers, the stonecutters, 
and the people who provide memorials of the dead. There 
must be over five hundred shops devoted to this purpose 
south and west of the cemetery, and they hang out their spe- 
cimens with all the display for which the French are noted. 
The dealers in tombs and stone-work do not have their mar- 
ble-yards, as with us, but are in shops, and display their work 
in the windows. The dealers in memorials I do not thit;k 
have any counterpart in America. We put flowers on our 
graves and get them from the florists. The French do this 
also, but very sparingly. Their memorials consist chiefly of 
wreaths of immortelles, of huge constructions of bead-work, 
representing wreaths, crosses, baskets, etc. ; of representations 
of leaves, plants, and flowers made of tin and painted in the 
colors of the plants or flowers ; of mottoes painted on glass 
with pictures representing tombs with weeping relatives ; of 
banners announcing that such and such societies or persons pay 
homage to the dead, which are hung on the tomb, and many 
similar devices. The idea seems to be to get something durable 
which the weather cannot destroy, and to provide these things, 
which are used in great profuseness, is the business of a large 
number of people in the neighborhood of the cemetery, whose 
shops display their wares as effectively as possible. The many 
thousands who went to the cemetery to do homage to the 
memory of M. Thiers were liberal purchasers of these thiugs, 
and, in fact, throughout the cemetery the tombs all gave 
token of the generous grief of relatives and friends who thus 
piled upon and in them marks of their affection.* 



* The Parisians have a beautiful and appropriate custom ;it funerals. 
As the procession moves through the streets, be the dead never so humble, 

G* 



154 A HOLIDAY TOUR. 

Pere la Chaise is very unlike a Philadelphia cemetery in 
appearance. We are accustomed to burial-lots, railed in or 
surrounded with stone-work, with most of the graves marked 
by tombstones or monuments, which show generally great 
artistic skill. This is a cemetery, not of graves, but of vaults. 
The funeral comes, the stone cover is taken from the vault, 
the coffin lowered, and men below receive it and push it into 
a shelf, where it reposes. There may be a dozen of these 
shelves in the vault, one below the other, and the bottom one 
be twenty feet or more below the surface. This system makes 
the burial-lots much smaller than in our cemeteries, and it 
precludes, in most cases, the erection of separate tombstones 
or monuments. Over the vault there is generally built a 
small ornamental house of stone, much like a sentry-box. 
The public look in through the railings of the door, for they 
are all left thus partially open so that you can see within, and 
on the sides and back are inscribed the names of those buried 
in the vault beneath. At the back is a shelf where there is 
usually a crucifix and candles, and here are placed memorials 
of the dead generally of the character above described, but 
sometimes of a more personal nature, such as displaying chil- 
dren's favorite dolls, etc. Over the door will be inscribed the 
name of the family owning the tomb, there being sometimes 
two or three families in common. The cemetery is almost 
filled with these little stone buildings, in and upon which are 
placed the memorials. There is thus given plenty of oppor- 
tunity for the sculptor's art, and it is availed of for the con- 
struction of mauy beautiful tombs. The cemetery, however, 
is very unlike an American burial-place in appearance, though 
its situation on the hill-sides is taken full advantage of for 
attractive horticulture and beautiful foliage. 

The tomb of M. Thiers is one of these small stone struc- 
tures, probably five feet square arid eight feet high. It is un- 
pretentious, and belongs to two families. His name is inscribed 
prominently inside, and there are other persons entombed in 



every man reverentially takes off his hat when the corpse passes by. 
Every one does it as a last mark of respect to the dead. I have seen a 
hearse pass through a crowded boulevard followed by a solitary carriage 
containing the few relatives of the dead, yet ten thousand people of all 
degrees, from nobles down to those of the humblest avocation, revereu- 
tially removed their hats as the corpse was carried before them. 



A FRENCH CEMETERY. 155 

it, but it was difficult to read the names, from the profusion 
of offerings thrown in and piled up all around. There was a 
very liberal supply of gens d'armes (police) around, but every 
one was orderly ; and thither came a constant stream, crowd- 
ing around, making their offerings, and writing their names in 
a book that a person who sat inside provided. If they could 
not write, he wrote the name for them, and this book was to 
be kept as a remembrance of the occasion. The grave, prior 
to the arrival of the cortege from Notre Dame, was visited by 
people of all characters, but chiefly of the lower class, — men 
in blue blouses, women with wooden shoes, — many of them, 
of both sexes, bareheaded, but many wearing curious white 
caps, and strange clothes, indicating the dress of the French 
provinces. They paid their homage reverentially, and showed 
in every movement a complete veneration for the great inan. 
Thus the day passed on, the steady stream continuing uninter- 
rupted after the cortege arrived until nightfall, and displaying 
one of the most marked traits of the French character. 

While this was going on a somewhat similar scene trans- 
pired near by, at the tomb of Raspail, the Republican Deputy 
and Communist sympathizer, who died about ten months ago. 
He, too, was buried in a family vault with many others, and 
there had been an almost uninterrupted homage paid to him 
since his burial. This tomb showed how the Communistic 
spirit still prevails in France. In the first place, on every ac- 
cessible part of the marble-work devotees have been carving 
their names and initials. Then they have hung all over it, 
inside and out, and far above it in pyramids, memorials with 
inscriptions showing that they came from w r orkingmen's so- 
cieties of various places, or with cards bearing the names of 
the donors. Some of these memorials bore a score of cards. 
Then it seemed as if every visitor had also left his own card. 
There were ten thousand cards piled up on the floor of the 
little house surmounting the vault, and thousands more lay 
trampled and half destroyed on the ground outside. Some 
were visiting-cards, others business-cards, others bits of paper 
with people's names written on them, and also containing ap- 
proving sentiments for Raspail and his cause. This card- 
leaving had gone on for some time, just as if all these people 
expected the dead man to return their calls ; and it was still 
going on, for hundreds were there throwing in their cards and 



156 A HOLIDAY TOUR 

showing their Communistic sentiments in that and other ways, 
for one of them skilfully helped himself to my wife's um- 
brella while we were looking at the tomb. The gens d'armes 
were numerously on duty near by, but this strange devotion 
continued without interferenee, and certainly showed a curious 
element of Parisian character. Raspail was one of the earliest 
Republicans of France and the oldest Deputy in the Assembly 
when he died. He was a Parisian druggist, and made a fur- 
tune through the sale of camphor. He was an earnest advo- 
cate of the doctrine that the use of camphor was a sure cure 
for all diseases ; that, in fact, it would cure anything excepting 
a broken limb, and he made camphor and Communism work to- 
gether until he won fame and fortune. His admirers are said 
to continue to be devotees of camphor. 

The tomb of Abelard and Heloise is the great object sought 
in Pere la Chaise. It is a sort of Gothic temple, in which 
effigies of both are laid on top of a catafalque, side by side, 
with hands folded. The tomb is an old one, but has recently 
been cleaned, and presents an attractive appearance. This an- 
cient tomb is the Mecca of despairing lovers. The unfortu- 
nate of both sexes, whose love-affairs get desperate, go there 
to lay tin flowers and bead- work leaves on the tomb, to thus 
invoke the lovers' friendship ; but, as it has been railed in 
since its restoration, they now either toss them on or hang 
them on the railings. I counted twenty-three such ofFerings 
on the tomb and the railings, and whilst there an alleged de- 
spairing lover came up and threw on another. But he did 
not look as if his supposed despair had had much effect on 
his health. A fat, red-headed youll;, with rosy cheeks, a 
smile on his countenance, and every evidence of a good appe- 
tite, he looked just the opposite of what Americans would 
think his condition ought to be. There are many fine tombs 
in this cemetery. M. Casimir Perier, the statesman and finan- 
cier, has one that is particularly noticeable, surmounted by his 
statue in bronze. Ledru Eollin, the author of universal suf- 
frage in France, who died in 1874, has a modest tomb, but it 
was almost entirely covered with offerings. The finest tomb I 
saw was that in memory of Generals Lecompte and Clement 
Thomas, killed by the Communists, this tomb being erected 
by the Government, and having magnificent carved work. In 
Pere la Chaise are buried almost all the great men of France, 



THE PARIS EXPOSITION. 157 

great in politics, literature, art, war, and science, — and their 
names and memorials appear on every side. It fills for France 
the place that Westminster Abbey occupies for England. 
There are separate enclosures in it for the Jews and the Mo- 
hammedans. There are also occasionally seen, in walking 
through this cemetery, the tombs of Americans who have 
died in Paris. 

The routes to the cemetery generally go through a very 
poor part of the city, — through streets that modern improve- 
ments have not reached, and that thus reproduce, as it were, 
the Paris of olden times Narrow, crooked, stuffed full of 
little houses, with an overflowing population, here live the 
people who foment revolutions and set up Communes. It is 
a curious fact that almost the last place in which the defeated 
Communists were able to defend themselves was in Pere la 
Chaise, fighting among the tombs. Through most of the 
parts of Paris having this sort of population, boulevards have 
been opened, so that the troops can have a clear sweep for ar- 
tillery. There is a wide boulevard thus opened along the city 
side of Pere la Chaise, its centre being used as a market, a 
large portion of which is occupied by the old clothes, old iron, 
bottle, and other second-hand dealers. That section of the 
city, however, is very little frequented by foreigners, and they 
prefer the wide streets, better buildings, and greater attractions 
of the neighborhood of the Arch of Triumph. 



LETTER XXIX. 

THE PARIS EXPOSITION OF 1878. 

Paris, September 6. 
It would hardly be proper to write from Paris without men- 
tioning the Exposition, and yet there can scarcely be imagined 
a subject more difficult to encompass in a letter. If I had 
never seen the Philadelphia Exhibition the task would be the 
easier, for it would involve no comparisons ; yet having seen 
both one cannot help comparing. They resemble each other. 

14 



158 A HOLIDAY TOUR. 

and still are different. All exhibitions have many points in 
common. If the visitors to our Centennial were asked what 
is the most lasting impression made by it, the majority of 
them would probably answer that it was the recollection of the 
utter and most desolating fatigue that the task of going over the 
show involved. In this respect the Paris Exhibition is almost 
like the Centennial. Its millions of visitors are getting fully as 
tired as those who wearily wandered through Fairmount Park, 
though they have not so many acres to go over. They also 
have quite as much trouble in obtaining a chance to ride 
home at the close of the day, though the distance from the 
heart of Paris is not so great as the distance was at Philadel- 
phia. Pedestrianism is a cardinal virtue here as it was with 
us in 1876. But, excepting these things, which are necessary 
misfortunes of all exhibitions, this show at Paris loses nothing 
by comparison with Philadelphia. It gains much by its greater 
compactness, whilst, from the character of the ground and of 
the exhibitors and their goods, it is a display that has been 
made to disclose more concentrated grandeur than we were 
able to present at Philadelphia. Everything at Paris is 
brought within one great building and its immediately adja- 
cent annexes. All the structures representing different nations, 
such as the American House, the Prince of Wales' pavilion, 
etc., are within this grand building, which is not a single 
structure like our Main Building, but rather a series of 
courts, passages, and galleries, enclosed within a rectangular- 
shaped building, which forms a sort of ornamental border for 
them. It is as if our Main Building were enlarged to three 
or four times its size, with the interior divided into passages 
and courts, with other intervening passages and spaces open to 
the sky. Within this is the Exhibition, — not scattered as at 
Philadelphia in scores of buildings spread over many acres of 
ground, but compactly placed within one great structure a 
half-mile long and nearly a quarter of a mile broad. This 
condensation of space, if it may be so described, saves pedes- 
trianism, whilst the excellent classification of articles keeps the 
species as distinctly separate as if they were in entirely dif- 
ferent buildings. But at the same time the French have 
nothing like our attractive Horticultural Building to show, 
though in their display of horticulture, which is made in the 
open air, they have produced a garden along the Seine far 



SCENERY OF THE EXPOSITION. 159 

exceeding anything we had at the Centennial. The French 
are great in everything pertaining to flowers and plants, and in 
the space of about one thousand feet square in front of their 
building, and bordering the Seine, they have produced a hor- 
ticultural and aquatic display which is unrivalled. 

SCENERY OP THE EXPOSITION. 

Sloping down to the Seine, from the Exhibition building 
to the south bank, is a scene of floral loveliness, enhanced by 
fountains, statues, pretty little cafes nestling among the vines, 
and the greenest and smoothest lawns that only the balmy 
climate of Paris could produce, and sloping up from the 
north bank to the Trocadero Palace is its counterpart on a 
smaller scale, but with the grand cataract as a centre-piece 
flowing over one cascade after another down to the river, and 
disappearing, as it were, under the broad Bridge of Jena, 
which connects the two parts. This scene, with the palace 
on the hill circling around on either hand, its airy towers 
rising above the rounded centre pavilion, and the whole 
structure dazzling the eye in the sunlight, for it is built of 
light cream-colored stone, is the triumph of the Exhibition. 
The formation of the ground, sloping on either hand towards 
the river, greatly favors the view ; so that whether looked at 
from one side or the other, — from the palace towards the 
dome-crowned Exhibition building, or from the building 
towards the palace, — it is a scene of enchanting loveliness. 
The two structures are probably fifteen hundred feet apart, and 
within the intervening space the French have put everything 
that could be adapted to the creation of an open-air scene of 
rural beauty. It is an art they know as much of as any race 
in the world, and they have exerted themselves to the utmost 
here. This is the crowning feature of the Exhibition, and it 
has so charmed every beholder that it is to be maintained 
permanently after the Exhibition shall have passed away. It 
has only been within a few weeks that it has been finished. 
The earlier visitors did not see it as it exists now. Curiously 
enough, this view is only obtainable inside the Exhibition. 
None of the outside views, excepting that of the Trocadero 
Palace from the Bridge of the Alma over the Seine below, 
are at all impressive. The approach to the palace from the 
city side does not compare in beauty to the views of our 



160 A HOLIDAY TOUR. 

Memorial Hall, for the architect sacrificed everything to obtain 
the grand impression made on the interior and river sides. 
Likewise the long, low walls of the Exhibition building, with 
its annexes, as one approaches them from the Alma Bridge, on 
what may be called the north side, in coming that way, as 
most visitors do, from the city, are not nearly so impressive as 
the grand sweep of our two great Centennial buildings as seen 
along Elm Avenue. This structure has enormous length, and 
its surmounting domes relieve it, but there is no good view 
obtainable, and it has not the massive solidity of the two great 
buildings in Fairmount Park. When it comes to the com- 
bined barn and railway station style of architecture necessary 
for this kind of building, which is to be measured by half- 
miles, and is to be constructed at the rate of I don't know 
how many acres per day, the Parisian must take off his hat 
to the Philadelphian. 

A PARISIAN " SHANTYTOWN." 

There is another matter in connection with the outside of 
the Exhibition in which Paris is a close imitator of Philadel- 
phia, however. That grand aggregation of remarkable struc- 
tures w r hich, in West Philadelphia, sprang up into the mush- 
room growth of " Shanty town," has its thorough counterpart 
on the outskirts of the Paris Exposition. It flourishes chiefly 
on the Porte Rapp side, along the Avenue Rapp, which leads 
from the Alma Bridge, over the Seine, and in the adjacent 
streets, and also appears to a moderate extent in the neighbor- 
hood of the Trocadero Palace. There are hundreds of cafes, 
booths for selling Exhibition tickets, minor theatres and show- 
shops, and, as at Philadelphia, most of them are light, tinder- 
box structures of wood, liable to ignite at any moment. They 
include, however, one feature that was missing at Philadelphia. 
This is the establishment of booths by the Bible and Tract 
Societies for the free distribution of sacred writings. Almost 
every visitor to the Exhibition, from whatever direction he 
may come, is freely supplied with these by a large corps of 
colporteurs, who environ the entire place. The cafes in these 
regions have their rows of tables, and here thousands breakfast 
aud dine, avoiding the higher charges inside the enclosure. 
There are, of course, restaurants inside, but there does not 
seem the bountiful supply that Philadelphia had, and hence 



INSIDE THE EXHIBITION. 161 

these outside establishments may have a chance to thrive better 
than most of them did with us. 

INSIDE THE EXHIBITION. 

Inside the Exhibition, the visitor is impressed with the 
skill the French display in the art of decoration, shown in the 
adornments of the buildings and grounds. Whatever paint- 
ing, gilding, bunting, gardening, or artistic construction can 
do is availed of to give beauty to the inside views, to the 
fronts of the various structures, to the roofs and walls of 
the courts, and to the many open-air passage-ways. Gardens 
are numerous. The odd corners and little waste pieces of 
ground are made gems of floral beauty. There are also little 
beds of flowers and foliage inside the buildings at many places. 
Everything that is intended to have any permanence is built 
solidly, with stone floors, and this is the nature of the construc- 
tion of the entire Trocadero Palace, and also of the western end 
of the Exhibition building, which fronts the Seine. The 
building itself is divided longitudinally into what may be called 
six sections, of which, counting from the north, the first is de- 
voted to French machinery ; the second to French exhibits ; 
the third is a series of buildings in the open air, surrounded 
by uncovered passage-ways, and may be described as the cen- 
tral court of the Exhibition building ; the fourth contains ex- 
hibits, not French ; the fifth, machinery, not French, and the 
sixth is the foreign annexes. By this system very nearly one- 
half the Exhibition is French, and the remainder foreign. The 
central court contains the fine art galleries, and the special 
building exhibited by the city of Paris, whilst on the south 
side of this central court is what is called the Avenue of the 
Nations. This avenue has along it a row of buildings char- 
acteristic of each nation exhibiting, and these buildings front 
the special sections of each nation, each of which sections 
crosses from the centre to the south side of the enclosure. 
Thus each foreign nation has its exhibit of goods, of machinery, 
and outside of all, its annexes. The system is a very good one, 
for it keeps in the longitudinal passage-ways all the goods of 
the snme character, no matter what nation exhibits them. Of 
the foreign space. Great Britain occupies one-fourth. The 
plan, whilst it has its advantages, also, however, has its draw- 
backs. Thus it preveuts the showing of what most visitors 

14* 



162 A HOLIDAY TOUR. 

thought the greatest success of the Exhibition at Philadelphia, 
— all the machinery in motion in one grand hall, with the 
great Corliss engine in the centre furnishing the power. The 
machinery is divided into two widely-separated parts at Paris, 
and the power is furnished by scores of small engines, many 
of them provided with the familiar Corliss cut-off. If all the 
machinery, French and foreign, were put together, it would 
be as much as at Philadelphia, and show some excellent 
machines, but the system of division loses the grand effect of 
the whole in one scene, such as we had it. 

MERITS OP THE FRENCH DISPLAY. 

But the Exhibition, to American eyes, has other merits 
which must be conceded. Every one at Philadelphia was 
charmed with the view presented at the centre of our Main 
Building, where the finest gems of the United States, France, 
England, and Germany were clustered, in and near the central 
court, whilst proceeding westward we had on the front ave- 
nues similar gems from other nations. This exhibit was beau- 
tiful but limited in extent at Philadelphia, for it is the kind 
of thing that foreign nations chiefly deal in, though we were 
too far away for them to send much of such goods across the 
ocean. Here it is, however, multiplied a hundred-fold, and 
gems of art in the precious metals, porcelain, silks, and the 
myriads of fabrics so effectually wrought in Europe line miles 
of passage-ways, and are displayed in almost endless profusion. 
The eye is almost dazed with the sight of acres covered with 
the most splendid things that human hands produce. Thus, 
there is at least an acre covered with diamonds and jewelry ; 
another filled with India shawls ; another of the finest glass- 
ware, with chandeliers and huge constructions of glass that 
dazzle the eyes ; several acres of the finest porcelain ; with 
silks and stuffs of all sorts spread over extensive spaces, and 
dresses and bonnets sufficient in number, it seemed, to clothe 
almost half the ladies in Philadelphia. There also seemed to 
be at least five thousand French dolls on exhibition, with 
their wardrobes and appurtenances, and enough toys to fill 
fifty large toy-shops. As France is the greatest of nations at 
all this sort of thing, so her exhibit exceeds that of any, 
though the others come very well to the front in fancy goods, 
and all of them show far more and much better than they did 



THE AMERICAN DISPLAY. 163 

at Philadelphia. Prices too are less than were asked with us. 
These people say they had to ask high rates at Philadelphia on 
account of the import duty ; but they have to pay a high duty 
on their goods brought into Paris. The truth is, they thought, 
as all foreigners do, that there was no limit to American pocket- 
books. Thus, I saw several familiar objects of the Japanese 
collection at Philadelphia in the Exhibition here, ticketed at 
one-third to one-half the prices asked, but not obtained, in 
Fairmount Park. Buyers here are accustomed to fancy goods 
and will not tolerate fancy prices. There seems to be a great 
amount of buying going on, and, as a general rule, the attend- 
ance is very good, every case having its representative, gen- 
erally capable of speaking at least two languages. 

We had nothing at Philadelphia that equalled the Avenue 
of the Nations, with its row of representative houses of each 
nation. Running from one end to the other of the great 
building, this broad avenue gives nearly a half-mile of these 
representative houses, each artistically constructed, and the 
whole combining, as it were, the world's present system of 
small house and cottage architecture. Then on the other side 
of the avenue are the pretty buildings containing the fine art 
exhibits, which exceed greatly the amount displayed at Phila- 
delphia, and are particularly strong in the representation of 
European art of all schools, as may naturally be expected. 

THE AMERICAN DISPLAY. 

Of the United States section at Paris the part which first 
arrested attention, because it had, from absence from home, 
become an unwonted sight, was the colored messenger at the 
stairway leading to Commissioner Richard C. McCormick's 
office. I have been two months away from home and do not 
think I have seen six colored people in Europe. Therefore 
this messenger, with his fancy hat, naturally attracted atten- 
tion, as he did that of people from all parts of the world, who 
wonder what he can be, and who come and bring their friends 
to peep at him and guess where he came from. He is, how- 
ever, a true American exhibit, born on the soil, and like most 
Americans in this foreign land longing for something to eat, — 
not that he could not get enough to eat, such as it was, — but 
wanting something to eat that he was accustomed to, — anxious 
for watermelon and pumpkin-pie, ice-cream and tomatoes, 



164 A HOLIDAY TOUR. 

hoe-cake and squashes, and several other dishes, the value of 
which France as yet knows not. He had been six months 
away from home, and hadn't seen a short-cake or a slapper 
since he left dear old Philadelphia. This colored man and 
his wants, I think any American knowing Europe will admit, 
were among the very best exhibits of American peculiar in- 
stitutions that could have been sent to Paris. 

The United States labored under disadvantages in going to 
Paris, in having too little money and having the law passed 
ordering the display at too late a period. But tardiness was 
made up by prodigious energy and Congressional parsimony 
by private individuals going down into their own pockets. 
We filled our space and more ; and we sent the useful rather 
than the showy goods, thus making not the more splendid 
appearance of our European cousins, but certainly giving them 
ideas of Yankee useful notions that they did not have before. 
To American eyes the exhibit of the United States does not 
compare to that of other countries, because our eyes are used 
to it, and are not used to the endless profusion of magnifi- 
cence elsewhere displayed in the Exhibition. But to foreign 
eyes it is just the opposite. They are tired of magnificence 
and want something useful. They crowd the American pas- 
sages, and look at American manufactures, and wonder at their 
simplicity, cheapness, and utility. The boards of judges have 
yielded the palm of superiority to the United States by giving 
us, in proportion to exhibits, more awards than have been 
given any other country, the proportion being, in fact, very 
much larger; whilst we have carried off seven of the best 
prizes out of twelve of all classes offered for agricultural im- 
plements. In fact, in several branches we have secured the 
best prizes, and these against keen foreign competition. As 
the test of the pudding is the eating, so is this opinion of 
judges and this gazing of foreign eyes the test of the excel- 
lence of the American exhibit. When Congress has to pro- 
vide for another exhibition it is to be hoped the matter will 
be looked at earlier and more liberally than in this case. 

A Babel of all tongues crowd the American passages and 
chatter about the American goods ; and these people seem to 
have bought nearly everything in the American department that 
was for sale. The entire Waltham watch exhibit is sold, and 
the orders for agricultural machines and sewin<r-machines are 



THE AMERICAN DISPLAY. 165 

reaching a large total. The signs denoting sales are liberally 
sprinkled over the cases. The French look with wonder on 
Tiffany's display of art in the precious metals, which was an 
attack on their stronghold, and carried off several prizes. Mr. 
Samuel S. White's display of artificial teeth has no counterpart 
in any other department. Disston's saws and Blaben's oilcloths, 
Gutekunst's photographs, Lewis's cotton fabrics, the many dis- 
plays of Philadelphia tools, rivets, etc., and other useful things, 
arrest attention. I saw a thousand people struggling to get 
a look into the Pullman palace-car, and the crowds that 
could not get in were wondering what the huge Heading 
Railroad locomotive alongside could possibly be. It is about 
five times the size of the locomotives used here, and, excepting 
that it has wheels and a smoke-pipe, looks as much unlike the 
French locomotives as can possibly be. A surprised visitor 
who had endeavored for several minutes to comprehend what 
the machine was, finally was told that it weighed forty-two 
tons aud was an American locomotive. He looked at it again 
and in broken English answered, " Mon Dieu, she not pretty, 
but Amerique grand country, plus grand country." Likewise 
our European cousins do not know what to make of that 
American institution, the jig-saw. They crowd around it, 
and watch its performances with pleasure, and invest their 
sous in puzzles and rocking-chairs, but they cannot compre- 
hend the combination of Yankee skill and nimble fingers with 
a swift-moving saw that does it all. And as the French vocab- 
ulary does not contain words sufficiently strong or comprehen- 
sive to translate "jig-saw" into the Parisian vernacular, it is 
probable that the nation will suffer for some time for want of 
this comprehension. There are in fact many Yankee institu- 
tions and names that cannot be translated into French, and 
some of the French signs displayed in the American part of 
the Exhibition that attempt this show very remarkable com- 
binations of words. Most of the exhibitors, after struggling 
with their French dictionaries, have evidently given it up as a 
bad job, and put up their signs only in English. This is the 
case with our friends who work the jig-saws. In one place an 
energetic Irishman talks doubtful American to a French boy, 
who makes his speech by bits to the attendant crowd. The 
threshing-machines and other agricultural implements are, how- 
ever, presented by men who are not afraid to air their French 



166 A HOLIDAY TOUR. 

in its stronghold. Thus the Empire thresher became " L'Era- 
pire Machine a battre le Ble," and the Champion mower 
startles us under the prodigious name of " Faucheuses-Mois- 
sonneuses de Champion," whilst the Buckeye implements 
are " Machines Agricoles de Buckeye," and Wood's Binder is 
the " Lieux de Wood." The French look at these signs and 
others like them with puzzled amazement.. They can read the 
front names, but it is the other end that bothers them, for the 
words Buckeye, and Champion, and Empire, etc., used in that 
sense, are beyond their comprehension. It will probably be 
another century before the average Frenchman can be made 
to comprehend the American use of this class of words. 
What they think is the truth, however, seems to be dawning 
upon them, for occasionally there is a polite request at the 
railing for an interview with "Monsieur Buckeye." 

THE SYSTEM OF ADMISSION. 

The French keep their Exhibition open every day in the 
week, Sundays included, and they charge only one franc (about 
nineteen cents) admission. They have tickets which are 
bought at booths outside, and are taken to the entrances, 
where one man punches them and another, collecting them, 
finally admits the visitor. These tickets are also sold at thou- 
sands of places about Paris, and in fact any one may sell them 
who chooses, upon permission being granted by the authorities, 
for a bonus of two tickets is given with every one hundred 
purchased for re-sale. The French count the admissions by the 
tickets, and hence there are no counting-machines interposed 
at the entrances to batter the ribs and test the temper. The 
only obstacle is the omnipresent gen d'arme, who watches that 
all goes right. The Exhibition is the largest yet held in the 
space covered by exhibits, but the foreigners who were at 
Philadelphia all deplore the absence of the splendid inside 
views made by our great buildings, which the system of con- 
struction here precludes excepting in a few cases, and they also 
say there is too much sameness in the show, the splendor being, 
as it were, without relief. It was the unique character of the 
Philadelphia Exhibition— its dissimilarity to previous ones — 
that made it attractive to them. 



STORES AND STREET COSTUMES IN PARIS. 167 
LETTER XXX. 

STORES AND STREET COSTUMES IN PARIS. 

Paris, September 8. 
There are one hundred and fifty thousand American and 
English strangers in Paris, and one runs against them wherever 
he goes. They are all sight-seeing, and they fill up the show- 
places, and are furnishing a harvest of gain to the keen Paris- 
ians, who leave no stone unturned to reap the profit. The 
active representatives of the chief stores watch the newspapers 
and the registry lists, and quickly follow the Americans, who 
they know will spend their money if they are tempted. Hence 
you are deluged soon after arrival with circulars announcing 
bargains, and are waited upon by polite callers about meal- 
time, who, after anxious inquiries as to your state of health, 
offer for sale specimens of jewelry or perfumery, dresses, bon- 
nets, etc. People wonder how they are so quickly found out, 
but the American's weakness on coming to Paris is to get his 
name into the published lists of arrivals, and this, as the ad- 
dress is always given, is sufficient introduction for the Pa- 
risian shopkeeper. The insinuating politeness of the Gallic 
race is expected to do the rest. Paris is a glorious place for 
an American to shop. Rows of shops are found on almost 
every street, and some of the stores cover acres, there being 
two or three here like the " Bon Marche," the " Belle Jardi- 
niere," and the stores of the " Louvre," that are enormous 
establishments, exceeding in size anything that we have in 
America, Stewart's stores in New York not excepted. It was 
from these great Parisian bazaars that Mr. Wanamaker got the 
design of his, and the extent of these, especially of the " Bon 
Marche," is something astonishing, covering a large surface. 
But with its many thousands of shops, and its rows of show- 
windows, and its miles of magnificent streets devoted to business 
purposes, there does not exist in Paris anything in the way 
of show-window displays that equals the scene on Chestnut 
Street, from the Ledger Building for a mile west beyond 
Broad Street. There are at least a hundred show-windows 



168 A HOLIDAY TOUR. 

in the great stores on Chestnut and Eighth, and Second Streets, 
in Philadelphia, that excel anything Paris can produce in this 
line. Paris can show the Philadelphian big stores, but the 
Philadelphian can teach Paris how to get up large and attract- 
ive show-windows. Likewise as to the shoppers. Thousands 
of ladies are making purchases in Paris and moving about the 
streets, but it is the marvel of all Americans that, whilst every 
American woman is constantly excited on the subject of tbe 
latest Paris fashions for dress, those magnificent dresses and 
bonnets, which are the gems of the promenade at home, are 
rarely seen on the street here, and if they are worn, it is not by 
the French. The Parisian modistes have plenty of magnificent 
dresses in their establishments, but the elaborate and beautiful 
costumes with which American women adorn themselves for the 
promenade, albeit they may be " the latest Paris styles," are not 
seen on the streets here. The ladies in Paris go about in or- 
dinary clothing, and reserve their fine dresses for balls and 
parties, rarely showing them outside the house. Hence every 
American female visitor is disappointed in not seeing in Paris 
what was fully expected, crowds of gayly-dressed ladies in the 
street. The scenes on the Philadelphia promenades on a fine 
afternoon on Chestnut and on Eighth Streets, in the way of 
a brilliant array of pretty women in elaborate and stylish toi- 
lettes, no street in Europe can produce. 

But the American in Paris cannot go sight-seeing and shop- 
ping all the time. Purses will get low, and eight hours per 
day of a continued round of palaces, churches, picture-gal- 
leries, tombs, and museums is too much for human nerves to 
long stand. Even the Exhibition, with all its magnificence, 
when taken in too strong doses has an effect upon the sight- 
seer the very reverse of beneficial. By the time you are ten 
days in Paris, and find that, after having labored most indus- 
triously, only a portion of the regulation " sights" have been 
seen, you begin to wish that the Commune had destroyed all 
the rest. You want above all things not to go sight-seeing 
and to have a day of relief; to roam about and avoid palaces, 
etc., and not be compelled to quarrel with cabmen or attend- 
ants about their " tips" and " pourboires." Such a day of 
wandering, starting out in the morning, really gives more 
actual enjoyment than a regulation sight-seeing day, wherein 
every half-hour has its palace to be visited and hurried through, 



PARISIAN STREET-SCENES. 169 

and you come home so mixed up that you hardly know where 
you live. 

FRENCH BREAKFASTS AND BARBERS. 

The French " first breakfast," of a roll and coffee, is taken, 
say at eight in the morning. You do it because the rest of 
Paris does it, and it is therefore the thing, though there is a 
lingering idea as you put the allotment of four lumps of sugar 
into the mixture of coffee and boiled milk, that the beverage 
is not quite as good as your mother makes, and that the roll, 
which may be six inches or six feet long, according to your 
appetite, would slip down easier if it were buttered. But you 
take it nevertheless, because Paris does so, and try to be satis- 
fied, or else, after a quarter of an hour's halting practice of 
the French language, are able to convince the waiter that 
next day he is to bring you butter, whereupon he leaves an 
order overnight at the shop for two cents' worth of butter, 
which is duly served (without salt) next morning. There is 
nothing extra served in this economical country, not even salt 
in butter, unless specially ordered. 

The breakfast over, but a yawning abyss still left in the 
American stomach for the lack of something more substantial, 
you hand over your key to the concierge who guards the lower 
door, and start on the day's wandering. And first to the bar- 
ber's for the toilet. Here the American is consoled by finding 
prices much lower than in his own country, but his heart sinks 
when he is set bolt upright in an ordinary chair to be shaved, 
whilst the " tonsorial artist" bends back his head till the neck 
almost breaks, so as to get the razor under the chin ; and the 
victim is unable to find words (in French) strong enough to 
express his feelings. Then, the rasping over, the " artist" 
makes a speech which, after much explanation, you ascertain 
to mean that you must get up and wash your own face. But 
all things, sooner or later, have an end ; and, after the barber 
has several times used your nose as a handle to move the head 
around, the toilet is complete. There is an excellent chance 
in Europe to introduce American barbers' chairs. 

PARISIAN STREET-SCENES. 

Next, the walk begins with that valuable companion in 
England and France, the umbrella, for it rains whenever the 
h la 



170 A HOLIDAY TOUR. 

opportunity arises, and the man who ventures out without one 
gets into trouble. You move about the streets, and look iuto 
windows, and watch the men who do the street-watering, using 
long jointed sections of pipe, which they haul about on little 
wheels, for there are few water-carts here ; try to interpret the 
cries of the street-peddlers ; wonder why it is that on that 
great low-wheeled, but carefully-balanced vehicle, the tumbril, 
one horse can draw what would be a four-horse load at home ; 
watch the hacks driving quickly about at rates not over forty 
cents an hour ; look in at the kiosks along the boulevards 
where the widows and orphans of soldiers sell newspapers, or 
at the tobacco-shops, where these deserving women, or else 
the wounded soldiers themselves also conduct the sale, and in 
addition frequently act as deputy postmasters ; or go up ou 
the Arch of Triumph, and at its great height look down over 
Paris, laid out like a map, with the twelve broad boulevards 
starting out towards all points of the compass, from the circu- 
lar space within which the Arch stands, and see the towering 
fortress of Mont Valerien on the one horizon, and that of 
Montmartre on the other ; or go to the Seine and watch the 
swift and pretty steamboats that are bringing tens of thousands 
to the Exposition at four cents apiece ; or else enjoy a ride for 
miles on top of an omnibus for three cents. You mount to 
the second story of this big machine and watch the buildings, 
gardens, and palaces as they go by, and the thousands of people, 
and talk American- French to your neighbors, who reply that 
they " no speak English" ; and then, as if a second Commune 
had broken loose, you are startled by the commotion all hands 
make if any one dares to get on the omnibus after it has the 
legally-limited number of passengers. When it is full, the 
fact is displayed on a sign, and the man who dares attempt 
to get on then gets berated by everybody on the vehicle and 
everybody on the sidewalk, and seems in danger of the 
guillotine. What a marked contrast this is to an American 
street-car ! 

THE AMERICAN LEGATION. 

But the American does not want to move about aimlessly 
all day, so, to give point to the occasion, he performs the duty 
all Americans owe their country, by calling on the American 
Minister. General Edward F. Noyes and his accomplished 



THE AMERICAN LEGATION. 171 

secretary, Mr. William Hitz, are found in their offices on the 
.Rue Chaillot, not far from the Champs Elysees, and give all 
callers a cheerful welcome. They are there seven or eight 
hours a day, and the latch-string always hangs out in the true 
American fashion. Here they give advice, and attend to 
every one's wants, and, as is the fashion with American envoys 
abroad, look after all sorts of things that would be scouted 
at in other Embassies, but which the American exacts. Gen- 
eral Noyes has made a very popular Minister, and has gone 
through the trying ordeal of an Exhibition season with high 
credit to his hospitality, but I fear with sad havoc to his 
pocketbook. But he is going to continue as he has begun, for 
the credit of his country, and when his means are exhausted 
he says he will return home. Like Mr. Welsh, in London, 
his salary does not begin to meet expenses, and heavy drafts 
have to be made on his private resources. The American 
Legation at Paris is expected to cope with Lord Lyons, the 
British Minister, who has fifty thousaud dollars salary, a 
palace to live in, and an extra allowance for entertainments. 
And yet, representing the most exacting race in the world, 
for the Americans expect their foreign Ministers to spend 
more and do more than any other people do, there are con- 
tinued attempts to cut down the present salary of seventeen 
thousand five hundred dollars, with no allowances. 

The American, by this time, prompted by the yearning 
abyss within, feels the need of that " second breakfast" which 
the French take in the neighborhood of noon. To get this, 
he has choice of ten thousand cafes, and dropping into the 
nearest, eats his chop or steak with a relish, and drinks his 
sour wine as if he also liked it, — though he generally don't. 
Then he pays the bill, after an argument about the price, 
in which the cafe always wins, for the American is the last 
man to haggle long about prices in an unknown tongue, and 
it is quickly learned that all Paris prices are raised on account 
of the Exposition. And next he thinks he would like to 
hear from home. So he goes down into the heart of the city 
along any of the streets leading to the new Avenue of the 
Opera, and in the neighborhood of that great Academy of 
Music, which is the largest and finest in the world, and has 
cost France over ten million dollars in its building and dec- 
oration, whilst the opening of new streets to show its mag- 



172 A HOLIDAY TOUR. 

nificent fronts has cost as much more, he seeks his reading- 
room and bank. 

THE " HERALD" READING-ROOM. 

The reading-room is that of the Neio York Herald, which 
great and enterprising journal has established in Paris one if 
the most popular, convenient, and useful offices for Americans 
that can be devised. The office registers American visitors, 
and telegraphs by cable their arrivals to the Herald in New- 
York, where they are published for the benefit of friends at 
home. It gives the visitors access to the news by posting up 
the latest telegrams, and it furnishes a newspaper reading-room 
containing four or five hundred newspapers, embracing almost 
all that any one wants to see, that are published on either 
continent ; and the files are carefully kept up, so that the vis- 
itor is pretty sure to find, from wherever he may come, his fa- 
vorite home journal. It is one of those conveniences of Paris 
to the Americans that they all appreciate, and do so with warm 
recognition of the princely liberality of the proprietor of the 
New York Herald. 

AN AMERICAN BANKING-HOUSE. 

From the Herald office to the Bank is but a short distance. 
It has come to pass in the progress of American financial 
events that the solidly-anchored bank of Drexel, Harjes & 
Co. has become the chief American bank in Paris. Almost 
all Philadelphia, and a very large portion of the rest of the 
United States, bank there, both for travelling and commercial 
credits when abroad ; and their circular letters, available at 
hundreds of the best banks in all parts of the world, are one 
of the travelling conveniences of the day. The tourist now 
has no risk of losing money ; he simply carries his circular 
letter, and wherever he may be, in near or remote parts of the 
world, he can find a bank which will honor it and pay him 
what he wants. With this system travelling, especially for 
Americans, is made easy. The Paris house has grown to 
large proportions since I first saw it ten years ago, and its cen- 
tral location, on the Boulevard Haussmann, near the Academy 
of Music, is one of the American headquarters in Paris. It 
is an European bank conducted on the American system, giv- 
ing its clients reading, writing, and conversation rooms, taking 



THE GREAT BALLOON. 173 

care of their parcels and conducting their business for them, 
receiving and forwarding their letters, and in every way aiding 
their business and pleasure whilst abroad. Over its affairs Mr. 
Harjes and Mr. Winthrop preside with skill and amiability. 
Mr. Harjes has very successfully conducted this popular house 
since its first establishment, and has become a leading Parisian 
financier. Its operations in managing travellers' and commercial 
business have grown to large figures, and it is this year taking 
care of the money and affairs of a great number of Americans 
abroad. 

THE GREAT BALLOON. 

Having read his letters from home, and possibly drawn 
some of that essential motive-power in all parts of the world 
— especially Paris — money, the American again starts out to 
lounge about and finish the afternoon. He wanders along the 
Avenue of the Opera and down towards the Seine. He may 
make a few little purchases from the small- sized but loud- 
voiced merchants who sell knick-knacks on the avenue, but 
his steps are naturally directed to the chief out-door sight of 
Paris in this locality, which is in full view before him — the 
great balloon. This is in fact, as well as in name, a great 
balloon, by far the greatest the world has yet produced. The 
Commune, it will be remembered, almost entirely destroyed 
the Palace of the Tuileries. It is now being slowly rebuilt. 
A portion of the large court-yard which it formerly enclosed, 
is used for the preparation of materials for the new buildings, 
whilst the remainder is an enclosure used for the balloon. 
The Parisian never does anything without calculating its 
dramatic effect ; therefore this balloon is so placed as to be in 
an exact line with the Champs Elysees, and thus visible for 
miles. It is a captive balloon, held by an enormous cable. 
You enter the enclosure and see it go up for a fee of twenty 
cents, or you can go up in it for four dollars. My finances 
admitted of the first expenditure, but not of the latter. To 
send it up and pull it down takes about fifteen minutes, and a 
steam-engine does the work, the cable being wound around a 
large horizontal drum, such as is seen at our coal mines. 
This balloon is big enough to take up fifty people, and it 
raises them to about two thousand feet height, from which 
altitude those who do not get frightened or sick, as many do, 
have a fine view I saw thirty-eight ascend at one time and 

15* 



174 A HOLIDAY TOUR. 

forty-two at one time afterwards. Three or four aeronauts 
ascend with them. When this balloon has its car resting on 
the ground it stands about one hundred and seventy feet high, 
and almost all Paris can see it towering above the surround- 
ing buildings. It is one hundred and twenty feet in diameter, 
nearly four hundred feet in circumference, has nearly four 
thousand square yards of surface, and contains about two 
hundred and forty-nine thousand cubic feet of gas. Huge 
cables — a half-dozen of them — anchor it when the wind blows 
hard. It is the most enormous thing of the kind ever pro- 
duced, and, as it sways backward and forward in the wind, 
shows prodigious power. I do not think any balloon has pre- 
viously been attempted that has anything like the lifting 
power of this one, which, with car, passengers, cables, sand- 
bags, and all, will raise nearly five tons. 

THE CHAMPS ELYSEES. 

From the balloon, which is certainly one of the present 
wonders of Paris, the American will naturally wander to that 
great street, the Champs Elysees, which is not far off, and 
amid the beautiful gardens sit down for a little while to watch 
the carriages that in streams are going out to the Bois de Bou- 
logne or else are coming home from the Exposition. He is 
scarcely comfortably seated when a tidily-dressed woman will 
demand a penny for the use of the chair. He pays, and then, 
having watched the unending panorama before him for awhile, 
continues sauntering along the beautiful street, past the con- 
cert-gardens preparing for the evening, and the circular horse- 
revolving machines set up for the children, until he reaches 
the theatres. There are five of them, and they give perform- 
ances every afternoon. He thinks he will go to one, and 
walks in and takes a seat. They are little open-air theatres, 
where puppets play and attract audiences, not only of chil- 
dren, but also of grown men and women. The admission is 
two cents, which gives a reserved seat under the trees, but you 
are politely requested to take a back seat, that the children 
may sit in front. The orchestra is an accordeon, the player 
of which takes up a collection to pay his expenses. On im- 
portant occasions the accordeon is reinforced by a violin. You 
go to the oldest, and the best, of these five theatres, which are 
all in full operation every afternoon and attract crowded houses. 



PARIS BY NIGHT. 175 

The Theatre G-uignolet was established in 1818, and has been 
in operation ever since. This little puppet-show has been 
going on for sixty years, and antedates any theatre we have in 
Philadelphia. It has a stage seven feet wide, and the pro- 
scenium is about four feet high. Fully five hundred people, 
more grown ones than children, look at the very funny show, part 
pantomime and part comedy, that goes on for a half-hour. The 
French are clever at this, and their two-cent show is equal to 
the funniest bit of nonsense ever put on the stage at more 
pretentious houses. 

A FRENCH DINNER. 

Then it is necessary towards dusk to eat dinner, — a French 
dinner, with a dozen courses, in which the toothsome viands 
are given incomprehensible names on the bill of fare, and are 
cut up into the smallest pieces consistent with handing them 
around. The plates are changed every few minutes, and the 
wines about as often, the waiters going round and round the 
table serving one morsel after another with machine-like pre- 
cision, so that you have nothing to do but lift the food to the 
mouth. The little mouthfuls are eaten, and the eater gradu- 
ally gets full, he knows not exactly how or what of, and he 
thus partakes of that great accomplishment of cuisine, a 
French dinner, whereof every dish has an almost national 
history and every sauce is the product of as much brain-work 
and culinary ingenuity as can possibly be put to the service. 
The French can in their cooking make more out of less than 
any other nation in the world, and they do it better ; but how 
they do it seems to be a secret confined to the nation, and to 
be intended to remain a French attribute forever. 

PARIS BY NIGHT. 

The dinner over, for it takes a long time, and night has 
fallen in the interval, the American will again start, out to see 
Paris by gaslight, and view it at its best and worst phases, — 
the worst, if he is inclined to vice, and I am sorry to find 
that it is the stranger in Paris who chiefly supports all its 
vices, — but the best phase, if the beauty of illumination and 
the brilliant scenes the busy and brightly-lighted streets afford 
are to be taken as the test. He will wander along miles of 
boulevards and arcades all made as brilliant and showy as gas 



176 A HOLIDAY TOUR. 

and electricity can do it. He will go into the Palais Royal, 
and, as the fountain plashes and the band plays in the garden, 
walk with thousands along the ranges of shops around it, and 
wonder how two hundred jewelry and diamond stores can pos- 
sibly thrive alongside each other, and how many millions of 
capital they display in their shop-windows, in the diamonds 
and precious stones they expose by tens of thousands, and the 
brilliant jewelry in the shapes of lizards and scorpions which 
in Paris is now all the rage. He looks in at Chevet's res- 
taurant, the Napoleon of French cuisine, who furnishes the 
great men their greatest dinners, and he marvels at the ex- 
cellence of the viands and vegetables there exhibited. He 
goes into the Avenue of the Opera, blazing with light from 
one end to the other, and rivalling the noonday sun in the 
brilliancy produced by hundreds of electric lights. He goes 
to the Place de la Concorde, and, with electric lights behind 
and alongside of him, he looks far up along the Champs 
Eiysees, a mile and a quarter to the Arch of Triumph, sees 
the grand display of electric lights there, and the many thou- 
sands of lamps and lights in long glittering rows between, 
and in fact stretching out in myriads in all directions, with 
the carriages, like a torchlight parade, moving up and down 
the broad avenue. Then he looks at the grand illuminations 
on either hand, fronting the rows of open-air concert gardens, 
which are the places of the first debut of many of the great 
singers of the opera and the actors and actresses of France ; 
and, entering one of these dazzlingly brilliant places, he sits 
down to drink his beer and watch the performance. A thou- 
sand people will attend, and he will be astonished to find that 
more than half speak the English language ; for it is true 
that if it were not for the stranger the Paris amusements, like 
its vices, could scarcely be sustained. And then the day over 
and the night half spent, the American will leave the enchant- 
ing scene, and, going home, ring the concierge's bell, and have 
a sleepy fellow in a bed, put into a recess half-way up the 
hall, poke his head out, pull a string that opens the door, and, 
letting him in, request him to shut the door again. " Bob 
swore," or something like it, will say the American, as he 
takes his key and climbs the stair to his apartment ; " Bon 
soir" will reply the sleepy fellow from his little bed, and the 
day in Paris is over. 



THE F&TE OF ST. CLOUD. 177 

LETTER XXXI. 

THE FETE OF ST. CLOUD. 

Paris, September 10. 

Every town and village of France has a patron saint, who 
guards its welfare, and when in the course of the year the 
saint's day comes around, there is a fete in honor of the oc- 
casion. The village thus has its Fourth of July, as it were, 
and continues the festivity for a week and sometimes for two 
weeks. But our idea of Fourth of July gives but a slight in- 
dication of a first-class village fete in France, which generally 
combines all the American pranks and oddities of Fourth of 
July, Christmas-Eve, All-Hallow-Eve, and several more an- 
nual merry-makings, together with a large amount of other 
goings-on so peculiarly French that the combination thus pro- 
duced is something that America has never yet seen. St. 
Cloud is a thriving village on the Seine, several miles west of 
Paris. Here are the famous palace, park, and gardens of St. 
Cloud, — the palace, once so attractive, being now a ruin, having 
been destroyed during the Franco-Prussian war by the guns 
of Mont Valerien. But the gardens and park continue to be 
gems of loveliness, covering the hill-sides for a long distance 
as they run down towards the Seine, and from their tops give 
a glorious view of the city of Paris. Here are beautiful foun- 
tains and a wonderful cascade, constructed with all the inge- 
nuity for which the Frenchman is so noted in his management 
of waterfalls. St. Cloud was a favorite residence of both the 
elder and the younger Napoleon, and here, until Sedan changed 
the course of events, the Prince Imperial, who is now in Eng- 
land, held his court, passing his time amid magnificent play- 
things, with a corps of generals and field-marshals to help him 
play tenpins and leap-frog. 

It so happened that on Sunday, September 8, the fete day 
of the patron saint of St. Cloud came around, and then began 
a fete that is to continue two weeks. Thither, therefore, went 
the peripatetic dealers in gingerbread, fruit, nuts, candy, toys, 
pop-guns, chinaware, dolls, gewgaws, and knick-knacks of every 

H* 



178 A HOLIDAY TOUR. 

kind in this part of France. There went out to St. Cloud 
several hundred of these, and taking possession of a grand 
avenue in the Park, running for over a half-mile along the level 
ground near the Seine, they filled it and the adjacent avenues 
with rows of booths. To these there were added all the wan- 
dering theatrical and opera troops in this part of France ; also 
all the great swings, circulating wooden horse machines, blowing- 
machines, weighing-chairs, telescopes, velocipedes, and, in fact, 
everything calculated to secure investments of French sous, 
the whole forming an aggregation of novelties spread over a 
large surface such as only the French could get together. 
With three exceptions they had there everything that America 
can congregate for similar occasions, and about five hundred 
more outlandish things that we unsophisticated Americans do 
not dream of. There were no itinerant venders of acidulous 
tooth-wash, or hot-corn, or my old American friend, — the 
peanut. 

On Sunday afternoon the fete began. The villagers dressed 
themselves in their best, and went out into the great avenue 
where all these booths, theatres, etc., were placed, and people 
poured in from the surrounding country. There came by rail- 
way, and omnibus, and coach, and on foot from Paris, many 
thousands. By four o'clock, when the fete had fairly got uu- 
derway, there were a hundred thousand people crowding the 
broad avenue and the hill-sides of the Park, — dancing, singing, 
decking themselves with ribbons, flowers, and badges, — riding 
on the circulating horses, going up and down in the immense 
gyrating swings, buying things at the booths, and enjoying 
themselves as best they could. Every vender who had booth 
or basket was shouting at the top of his voice what he had for 
sale, whilst the more pretentious had hand-organs, and the 
opulent, who could afford it, bands of music. These organs 
and bands, of which there were at least fifty always within 
earshot, played their liveliest tunes without any reference to 
each other, and the din of shouting, singing, hand-organ music, 
and altogether, had become by half-past five as if twenty Bed- 
lams had been let loose. 

Then the theatres, opera, circus, and other shows began 
their performances. There were nine of these, each having a 
little temporary theatre erected, in front of which was a plat- 
form open to public view. As nine shows thus had to attract 



THE FETE OF ST. CLOUD. 179 

audiences, it may be supposed there was a good deal of rivalry. 
Each show, therefore, paraded its company on the platform 
in front of its house each performer dressed in the most attrac- 
tive costume, and whilst the bands played their noisiest tunes, 
the public walked about in front, inspected the actors and 
actresses thus displayed, and, by the look of their clothes, 
selected the theatre to be attended. In a little while all the 
performances began. The acrobatic and circus shows were in 
the open air, the audience sitting within railed enclosures, 
whilst the public could get a free view outside. The opera 
company sang the " Chimes of Normandy." 

At the " Grand Theatre Becker," the most pretentious of 
all these establishments, there were accommodations for an 
audience of about four hundred. Orchestra chairs were sold at 
ten cents, the parquet seats at six cents, and the circle at four 
cents. Such of the aristocracy as attended were given seats in 
private boxes at fifteen cents, these boxes being arranged along 
one side of the house, whilst the other side was the platform 
on which the actors, when not on the stage, exhibited them- 
selves to the public in the street outside. The play was the 
" Knights of Liberty," in which appeared fifty performers. 
It was a high-pressure drama, in two acts and four tableaux, 
the costumes, as the play-bill announced, being furnished by 
one of the celebrated modistes of Paris. The orchestra of five 
powerful horns was placed in a little box under the roof, and 
the play, which turned out to be a forty-horse-power tragedy, 
resulted in the murder of about eighty-five persons whilst it 
was going on. The stage fights were numerous, and whilst 
they went on the five horns played their liveliest tunes, so that 
each killed man died in a hurry to quick music. The curious 
part of the play was, that every time a man was thus killed on 
the stage, he appeared in a twinkling on the platform outside, 
and either harangued the crowd to come in and see the show, 
or else leaned over a railing that separated this platform from 
the audience and watched the progress of the play. By this 
system the entire company kept up a healthy circulation be- 
tween the stage and the outer street, and at least a dozen of 
them were killed four times over in the course of an hour. 
The audience to^ v a most lively interest in what was going on, 
applauding the stage speeches and welcoming the mowing down 
of platoons of men with a hurrah. I can imagine that if Mrs. 



180 A HOLIDAY TOUR. 

Drew or Mr. Gemmill were to import this play to Philadelphia, 
and give it in the exact French fashion, with all the gore, and 
all the circulation of murdered artists between the stage and 
the street, it would be a theatrical novelty that would have a 
wonderful run. 

All Sunday afternoon and evening the din at the fete was 
kept up, the crowds increasing and becoming more hilarious, 
the people buying chances in two- and three-cent lotteries, in 
which all drew prizes of little fancy china images, — or taking 
chances in shooting-galleries, for similar rewards; or singing 
and dancing as well as the crowds would permit ; or watching 
the illuminations and fire-works that came with the darkness ; 
or else trying to get home, and finding that every vehicle was 
overloaded, and that pedestrianism was the best reliance. Oc 
casionally, in the uncertain weather of this season, a shower 
came down, and there was a rush for shelter. The cafes did 
a thriving business ; the booths gathered in many stray coins ; 
and general cheerfulness and hilarity prevailed. The immense 
crowd was in thorough good humor and the enjoyment seemed 
complete. Thus began the fete of St. Cloud, which I am told 
is one of the great fetes of this part of France, and at which 
the merry-making will continue for two weeks, although with 
nothing like the intensity and large attendance of the opening 
day. 

THE BOIS DE BOULOGNE. 

Paris has, in the woods at the village of Boulogne, west of 
the city, a park that bears much the same relation to it as 
Fairmount Park does to Philadelphia. Here go the Parisians, 
on foot, on horseback, or in carriages, to breathe the fresh air 
and enjoy themselves. It is the particular Mecca, especially 
on Saturdays, of bridal parties. They get married in the 
morning and have a picnic in the Bois de Boulogne through- 
out the day, all hands wearing the bridal costumes. Then they 
go home ; hire a hall, and have a ball in the evening. The 
Park has a lake and a cascade, both artificially constructed, 
and these give beautiful water-views, but as the land is mostly 
flat, I do not think its views can compare to those in Fair- 
mount Park. Neither can the equipages. There are a great 
number of carriages every afternoon on the road around the 
lake, which is the principal drive of the Bois, but they aro 



THE BOIS DE BOULOGNE. 181 

mostly one-horse vehicles, and the display, taken altogether, 
can hardly compare to a fine afternoon in Fairmount Park, 
where the handsome drive, and, in fact, the entire road from 
Green Street to George's Hill and back through the East 
Park is full of magnificent turnouts. Parisian horseflesh is 
generally poor, and this spoils the effect. The horses' ribs 
show economical feeding. The vehicles are heavy and lum- 
bering, and are not the light and handsome coaches and other 
road wagons that we are accustomed to. Hence, although it 
has more fame, no Philadelphian need wish to exchange Fair- 
mount Park for the Bois de Boulogne, either for extent, for 
views, or for the display of carriages and people. Now that 
our Horticultural Building has been surrounded with acres 
of flower-beds, and there are at George's Hill and Lemon 
Hill also beautiful flower-gardens, these will give a good idea 
of the French peculiarity of putting gardens in their parks, 
though there is very little of it done at the Bois, excepting at 
the nurseries, and there the chief attention is paid to the 
growth of trees. The wars around Paris having so recently 
devastated this Park, its timber, which is now mostly very 
young, is disappointing, and very little of it can compare to 
our acres of fine old trees along the Schuylkill. The Bois, 
however, has what we have not, and that is a fine, broad 
avenue from the Champs Elysees that gives easy access for 
carriages. It is unfortunate that Fairmount Park is not bet- 
ter provided, and that some street like Fairmount Avenue is 
not put in proper condition to enable carriages to get easy 
access over a good wide roadway to the Park, with enough 
room for the passing crowd of vehicles to easily move. From 
the Arch of Triumph the French have opened a magnificent 
street called the Avenue of the Bois de Boulogne, direct to 
their Park, and here- the procession moves between the city 
and the Bois. 

I have seen all the great Parks of all the great European 
cities, and there is not one that for origiual beauty can 
equal Fairmount Park. This is conceded by all the Eu- 
ropean visitors who have seen it, and yet they all — as they 
are racked over cobble-stones and tortured by their vehicles 
being wrenched into and out of car-tracks, and frightened by 
fear of collision in narrow streets — express astonishment that 
Philadelphia does not open up such a gem by giving a fine 



182 A HOLIDAY TOUR. 

avenue of access from Broad Street. Possibly, some day we 
may have it. 

And, now, good-by to Paris, which has this summer seen 
her greatest crowds, and put on her best appearance. But, 
through all the crowding, there comes for me the elements of 
another comparison with Philadelphia, in which our city has 
the greater advantage. Paris is the best and the worst place 
for an exhibition. The best, because, being the most attrac- 
tive city, there is so much to please the eye outside the Exhi- 
bition grounds. The worst, because the city has very little 
power of expansion to accommodate a crowd. Paris has many 
hotels and apartments that are let, but when these (which 
every other city also has) are filled, there is no power of ex- 
pansion, by which the excess of the inflow of visitors can be 
accommodated. I have seen people wandering about offering 
any price, but unable to obtain beds. Paris has not that great 
Philadelphia home institution, the " spare-room," or guest- 
chamber. The Frenchman in Paris has only just as much 
room as is necessary for his family to live in. The idea of 
accommodating a guest in his own apartments is almost un- 
heard of; and when a new baby arrives in the family it gen- 
erally has to be sent out into the country to nurse. Therefore 
Paris is unable to provide adequate accommodations for the 
crowd of Exhibition visitors, and this has caused prices to go 
up, and given the internal economy of the city a strain that 
it cannot bear. There was more comfort in Philadelphia for 
half the cost than Paris gives its visitors ; and this interferes 
greatly with the enjoyment of a visit to the Exhibition. 
Then the means of getting to and from the show in cheap 
public conveyances are entirely inadequate, and the French 
law preventing overcrowding has its inconvenience in com- 
pelling crowds of tired people to walk home. Carriages are 
abundant and cheap, four people being able to ride for fifty 
cents almost anywhere within Paris in one of these vehicles ; 
but it is not according to American ideas to force people to 
hire coaches when omnibus and car lines run over the same 
route. Were it not for these carriages I do not know how 
people would get from the Exhibition, and as it is, for two 
hours at least at the close of the day it is next to impossible 
to get a carriage. The omnibus and car lines seem to have 
no expansive abilities for the crowd, having no extra vehicles 



A RIDE INTO BELGIUM. 183 

to put on, and not expediting their time or increasing their 
trips to accommodate the increased travel. They give out 
numbers, it is true, and thus prevent a scramble, but this 
compels long waits. Our home management, even with the 
crowding, is much better, — for the india-rubber principle on 
which all American accommodations are based, provides for 
crowds, and the people, unlike many here, good-humoredly 
share their comforts with each other 



LETTER XXXII. 

A RTDE INTO BELGIUM. 

Brussels, September 11. 
It is a problem which has probably puzzled all travellers, 
why it is necessary for railway companies to start their through 
trains so very early in the morning ; why, for instance, if it 
takes five or six hours to accomplish a railway journey, the 
train must always be started just after daylight, when a few 
hours later would do just as well, and enable the traveller to 
prepare for the start with less haste and more comfort. As it 
is, the earlier the train starts the farther off the station usually 
is from where you live, and the more vexatious are the delays 
in breakfast, coach, or other preparations. How many travel- 
lers, since railways were invented, have laid awake all night so 
as to be sure to be in time in the morning, and as they tossed 
in bed have wished all sorts of unpleasant fates for the rail- 
way managers who get up these early-bird time-tables ? Why 
must a train start, for instance, at 6 a.m. from a station three 
or four miles away, when eight or nine o'clock would do quite 
as well, and compel travellers to bolt their breakfasts and ruin 
digestion for fear they will be too late ! This sort of thing is 
what the Northern Railway of France condemns its patrons 
to do, for it gives them, on the road to Brussels, no choice of a 
daylight train, except it be a very early one or a very slow one. 
And then this very early train, when it starts, runs to the first 
station, and there waits a hall-hour before the journey is con- 
tinued. 



184 A HOLIDAY TOUR. 

But being an American, and educated in our rapid country 
to be equal to the occasion, I made the train, though part of 
the breakfast had to go into my pocket, and, almost before the 
Paris population were astir, was whirling along on the road 
through Northern France towards Brussels. Passing through 
the Paris fortifications, and out over the wide expanse of gently- 
rolling garden-land, which almost all this part of France is, we 
soon came to Chantilly, where the great race-course is at which 
the French Derby is run, and where quite a colony of English 
horse-jockeys live, who thrive upon the three or four races 
that take place there every year. Chantilly is in a valley, the 
richest possible agricultural wealth being displayed in its green 
fields, but nothing save the difference in the kind of crops 
seems to mark the boundary between the little farms, out to 
which the people go from the little low-tiled cottages that clus- 
ter together in frequent villages. It was here that the great 
Conde lived and built the famous stables at the race-course, 
that are said to be the finest in France. The forest belonging 
to the estate, which can be seen from the railway, covers seven 
thousand acres. Then the train passed Compiegne, with its 
grand forest of thirty thousand acres and its equally grand 
palace, which for many years was one of the royal residences 
of France, whither the Court went to hunt, and where Napoleon 
I. magnificently welcomed his new wife, Maria Louisa, after 
he committed the fatal mistake at the zenith of his power, of 
divorce from Josephine. Here, also, in the olden time, Joan 
of Arc was treacherously captured and delivered up to her 
foes, who ultimately executed her. Next we pass Noyon, 
where John Calvin was born, and not far from which is the 
celebrated fortress and State prison of Ham, where Louis Na- 
poleon was so long confined, but from which he managed to 
escape, although the walls are thirty-six feet thick ; and then 
the thriving city of St. Quentin, with its great cathedral and 
its canal, uniting the waters of the Scheldt, in Holland, by 
passing through several other rivers, with the Atlantic by 
finally going down the Seine. Here is a region thick with 
relics of the late Franco-Prussian war, and containing many a 
sad remembrance in battle-field and ruin of the German inva- 
sion. The flat, highly-cultivated country, with its long stretches 
of woodland for miles and the villages of tiled and thatched 
houses, were pretty to look upon, when you could see them 



A RIDE INTO BELGIUM. 185 

through the clouds of dirt and smoke raised by the train ; 
for this part of the ride through beautiful France was as dirty 
as any American railway could get up, and sent the rich, finely- 
powdered soil whirling into the car-windows. Then we came 
to a region where almost every little eminence had its gyrating 
windmill, and beyond this the land gradually flattened into an 
almost treeless country, that seemed a nearly exact reproduc- 
tion of the prairies of the West. Thus, past windmills and 
through dust and among little detached villages, we journeyed, 
passing at a distance Cambrai, whence comes the name of 
" cambric," so familiar to your lady readers, until finally we 
reached the great fortress of Mauberge, one of Vauban's con- 
struction, and part of the French line of frontier defence 
towards Belgium. As we approached the Sambre River, on 
which this fortress stands, the country became more rolling, 
and we gradually got into the coal regions of Northeastern 
France, which adjoin the coal-fields of Belgium, and make 
their presence shown by the great iron-works of this section, 
and the long trains of cars, laden with the brightly shining 
coal, much of which, unlike ours in appearance, is of a shining 
gray color, and resembles little lumps of zinc. Here Paris 
gets her coal, which is sent by the canal past St. Quentin and 
along the Seine to that city. 

Crossing the frontier into Belgium, the train was stopped 
for fifteen minutes whilst the passengers went through the 
Custom- House examination. This was as superficial and as 
merely formal as such an examination could be, yet it was 
made most uncomfortable for the passengers. They had to 
leave the train and carry all their bags and boxes into the 
station, where the officers chalked them. Then the passen- 
gers carried them all back. Of course nobody had anything 
to pay duty on, and if he had he would not acknowledge it, 
so they were put to all the trouble of lugging their bags in 
and out for no good to the Belgian Government, but great 
discomfort to themselves. In all tongues the passengers were 
expressing their very decided opinion of the unnecessary nui- 
sance of these examinations, — which are practically no exami- 
nations at all, — yet annoy the traveller almost every day in 
journeying on the Continent. Having entered Belgium, the 
evidences of coal-mining were multiplied, and the train soon 
reached Mous, in the centre of the coal region, and gave a 

16* 



186 A HOLIDAY TOUR. 

fine sight of its beautiful yet strange-looking (being so unlike 
French architecture) Church of St. Waudra. At Mons was 
cast the famous old gun " Mons Meg," now at Edinburgh 
Castle. From Mons to Brussels, by way of Halle, the rail- 
way passed through a rich country, where the women were 
harvesting a second crop of hay, and scattering fertilizers over 
the soil, and finally we were trundled into the station of the 
Southern Belgian State Railway, — for the Government con- 
ducts all the railways in this country, — and landed in the city 
which is fond of being called a miniature Paris, which Brus- 
sels, especially the new parts, resembles in no small degree. 

BRUSSELS LACE. 

Brussels is chiefly known in America from being the source 
of product of that article which the ladies are fond of 
describing as " real lace." Lace, in these modern days, makes 
its presence known in Brussels by appearing in myriads of 
shop-windows, and tempting the eye and threatening the 
pocketbook on every side. It is a great sight to visit a lace- 
factory and see the patient workers fashioning this lace, which 
looks so fiue but involves such terrible labor. The girls begin 
work at six years of age, and gradually acquire proficiency in 
handling the bobbins or plying the needle, until death or 
worn-out eyesight ends their toil. The fineness of the work 
is only equal to its tediousness. I was shown one piece of 
lace that an old woman was working at, which covered a 
breadth of but three inches, yet in this space there were over 
four hundred threads, each attached to its bobbin, all of which 
she was skilfully twisting, turning, and fastening among the 
thousand or more pins stuck into a cushion, on which was 
fastened the parchment with the plan of the work. This 
looked difficult enough, yet I was told that only the coarser 
laces were made in this way, and that the finer ones had all to 
be made with the needle and by hand, and there were other 
patient toilers using their needles with thread as fine as a 
hair, to work out the gossamer fabric, the veritable " point- 
lace," that has such an electric influence over the female mind. 
Talk of the ' Song of the Shirt," that "stitch, stitch, stitch," 
though hard enough, is nothing to this. There they worked, 
twenty-five women, of all ages, in a room, some of them bent 
almost double, others with magnifying-glasses ; some with 



PUBLIC BUILDINGS IN BRUSSELS. 187 

strange, nervous twitches, that convulsed their entire bodies 
every time they took a stitch ; yet all patient and plodding, 
and hoping that some day the slow weaving of the tedious 
web would end. Near them hung the medals of all the Inter- 
national Exhibitions to attest their proficiency, including the 
medal and diploma from Philadelphia in 1876. These were 
the workers in the house, but there were besides nearly three 
thousand others outside who did the work at their homes. 
In the warerooms the sight of carrying about these almost 
priceless laces by the armloads, and tossing them over counters 
regardless of their great value, was calculated to create the 
same impression on the mind as the sight of men shovelling 
gold about in the Bank of England. It was certainly unique. 
The thread of which the costliest Brussels lace is made is 
spun from the finest flax, and the best grows just outside of 
Brussels, near Halle.* 

Brussels is the only city I have yet visited that knows how 
to make use of its dogs. No curs run wild in the streets, but 
all are made to do useful work. The little fellows turn spits, 
whilst the big ones draw wagons through the streets. All the 
bakers' carts, milk-wagons, and hand-carts are moved about by 
dog-power, and dog-teams are as frequent in the streets as 
horses. 

PUBLIC BUILDINGS IN BRUSSELS. 

Brussels has in the new part several fine streets and some 
noble boulevards. It also has many magnificent buildings, all 
placed in good situations to show their attractive architecture, 
as the new town is built upon a hill, and overlooks the old 
portions. I looked with admiration upon the new Palace of 
Justice, which is nearly finished, and which is as large as 
our Public Buildings at Broad and Market Streets. This 
palace has been nine years building, and will be completed in 



* The mystery of what is " real lace" which had long puzzled me waa 
cleared up in Brussels. " Real lace," whether made of linen or cotton, 
or both, is made by hand, as above described, whilst "imitation" lace is 
machine-made. I found out also in Brussels that a man pays for ex- 
perience in this world. I came out of the lace-factory considerably 
poorer than I went in, but my wile was that much happier. The gossa- 
mer-like thread of which the finest Brussels lace is made is most care- 
fully prepared, and some of it costs one thousand dollars a pound. 



138 A HOLIDAY TOUR. 

two years more, at a cost of thirteen million dollars. Another 
magnificent building, intended for a Museum of the Fine Arts, 
is going up near by, on a scale almost as large, and is to be 
surrounded by eighty-five columns of polished granite, several 
being already in position. It would take pages, however, to 
describe the many beautiful palaces and other buildings, parks, 
monuments, and fountains of this attractive city. Its picture- 
galleries are also famous, and here one begins to see the paint- 
ings of Peter Paul Rubens, the German artist whose pencil 
was so prolific that he is said to have turned out paintings 
by the acre, whilst others only could do it by the yard. The 
Brussels Cathedral, which is nearly nine hundred years old, is 
a fine building, with magnificent stained glass, and has one of 
the grandest carved pulpits in Europe. 

WATERLtO. 

Brussels is also famous as being on the road to the battle- 
field of Waterloo, which is but a few miles off. For several 
centuries it has been the habit of the great European nations 
when they get into quarrels to go into Belgium to fight it out, 
and the most conspicuous instance of this was at Waterloo. 
Hence Belgium is popularly known as the " cock-pit of 
Europe," and, although Waterloo was fought over sixty years 
ago, troops of sight-seeing visitors, including many Americans, 
are still going to that place, and ascending to the top of the 
monumental mound, built two hundred feet high to commem- 
orate the event, to look down over the almost level grain- and 
grass-fields and endeavor to understand how the battle was 
fought. They listen with credulity to the tales of guides who 
describe the contest in accordance with the supposed sympa- 
thies of the listener, and then pay high prices for ancient- 
looking bullets, and old bits of muskets and trappings that 
have been dug up on the field, — a day or two after their im- 
portation from Birmingham to be buried there. 



THE JOURNEY TO THE RHINE. 189 

LETTER XXXIII. 

THE JOURNEY TO THE RHINE. 

Cologne, September 12. 

" Get in your carriages, if you please," said the polite rail- 
way guard at Brussels, which speech corresponds to the sharp 
" all aboard !" without the " if you please," of the American 
railway conductor, as the latter whisks off his train without 
further ceremony. But here, on the Belgian and German 
railways, they do not start in such a hurry, but ring a bell, 
blow a whistle, and then these signals indicating that the 
ticket-office and baggage department had completed their busi- 
ness, the guard having personally looked into every carriage 
and seen that the passengers are rightly bestowed, blows his 
little whistle, the engineer gives three sonorous blasts on the 
locomotive whistle, and the train moves off. The system is 
deliberate and careful to the last degree, and just the opposite 
of what we are accustomed to at home ; but we did not have, 
as is often the case at home, a portion of the passengers 
chasing after the fleeing train, and we still managed to get off 
on time. We were bound for the Fatherland and the Rhine ; 
the land of castles, legends, and churches ; of famous baths, 
of thrift, and true politeness ; the land that has sent America 
millions of her best people, and has a sincere admiration for 
most things that emanate from America, especially petroleum 
and tobacco. The land of the llhine has been fought for and 
about more than probably any other, and the varying fortunes 
of the great river have been entwined into Europe's chief 
history for centuries. Not eighty years ago the Rhine was 
almost all in French possession ; now, in the wonderful recent 
growth and prowess of the German Empire, it has all been 
conquered by the Fatherland. Napoleon III. was ambitious 
to make the Rhine again the French frontier, and this ambi- 
tion precipitated the war which overthrew him. 

The railway from Brussels to the Rhine, at Cologne, runs 
almost eastward through the level garden-land of Belgium, 
and passes several famous places. Every town has its church, 



190 A HOLIDAY TOUR. 

many of them large and imposing, with their towers and spires 
reaching far above the surrounding buildings, and seen from 
afar as the railway enters and leaves them. Liege, with its 
coal-mines, iron-mills, and overhanging streams of smoke, 
looked like a sort of Pittsburg. But cannon and firearms, 
cutlery, rails, and metal-work are not the only things to be 
seen in this fine old city. It has its Cathedral and its his- 
torical buildings ; and here was the house of William de la 
Marck, of whom Sir Walter Scott wrote, whilst the princi- 
pal scenes of his novel of " Quentin Durward" are laid in 
Liege. The city is beautifully situated, the almost prairie- 
like appearance of the country west of Liege suddenly chang- 
ing to a rolling surface as the city is approached, and giving 
it, despite the smoke, an attractive look. Crossing the river 
Meuse, the railway continues eastward through a beautiful 
country, winding in and out among the hills, rushing through 
tunnels and over and along pebbly brooks, and among the iron- 
mills and coal-mines that in scenery and surroundings make 
this portion of Belgium resemble portions of Westmoreland 
County in Pennsylvania. Among the bold rocks and precip- 
itous hills there nestled frequent pretty valleys, where little 
villages and green fields set off the rugged hill-sides. In this 
sort of a country is located the famous watering-place of Spa, 
where eight different mineral springs are reputed to be a cure 
for almost all diseases, and attract crowds of invalids and idlers 
who want to drink or bathe in the waters, or else make be- 
lieve they do. Here in former days were famous gambling 
establishments, carried on by the sanction of the Government 
and giving it half their profits, but public opinion six years 
ago forced their suppression. Then we passed Verviers, be- 
yond which the Belgian Railway control ceases and the Ger- 
man trains take us with their luxurious carriages, and thus as 
we go along the French gradually dissolves into the German, and 
the quick, restless speech and movement of the Gaul is changed 
for the slower and more ceremonious manners of the Teuton. 
At Herbesthal, on the frontier, the German Custom-House is 
located, but the revenue officers, instead of compelling every- 
body to get out of the train with their bags, adopted the more 
comfortable system of visiting the passengers in the carriages. 
This formal ceremony over, the train was started by blowing 
a horn and ringing a bell, and sounding with due deliberation 



AIX-LA-CHAPELLE. 191 

several whistles, on the road to (Aix-la-Chapelle, as I was 
taught it at school, but as the people themselves call it) Aachen. 

AIX-LA-CHAPELLE. 

Aix-la-Chapelle is, historically, one of the most famous 
cities in Germany. Here the founder of the Empire, Charle- 
magne, was born and died, and he gave it, more than a thousand 
years ago, its first great eminence. Here, his successors, for 
centuries, on the throne of Germany, were crowned, and took 
the oaths of office, not, as with us, by swearing upon the Bible, 
or as in England by sitting upon the old stone of Scone in the 
high-backed coronation chair in Westminster Abbey, but by 
swearing upon the famous Charlemagne relics, — the lock of the 
Virgin's hair and a piece of the true cross, which he wore 
round his neck, the leathern girdle of Christ, the bones of St. 
Stephen, the cord which bound the rod which smote the Sa- 
viour, the fragment of Aaron's rod, and the bone of Charle- 
magne's arm, — all of which are now kept with jealous care in 
the Cathedral, and exhibited for an adequate " tip." Here, 
also, the Cathedral contains other precious relics, but they are 
only exhibited once in seven years, and as the next period will 
not come around until 1881, when hundreds of thousands of 
pious pilgrims will journey thither to see them, I was de- 
barred the pleasure. These relics were presented to Charle- 
magne in the days of the Crusades, by the Grand Patriarch 
of Jerusalem, and they include the swaddling-clothes in which 
the Saviour was wrapped, the scarf he wore at the Crucifixion, 
the robe worn by the Virgin at the Nativity, and the cloth on 
which the head of John the Baptist was laid. These, with 
some costly gems, are deposited in a silver vase of great value, 
and are only exposed to view, as I have said, once in seven 
years, and then with great ceremony. The Cathedral is one 
of the great churches of Germany, but the fame of its relics 
almost eclipses the fame of the church. Charlemagne's tomb 
is under the centre of the dome, a simple slab of marble bear- 
ing his name marking the spot. Aix-la-Chapelle, like Spa, is 
also a watering-place, its springs, which are strongly impreg- 
nated with sulphur, attracting many visitors, but it has not in 
this respect secured the great fame of its neighbor Spa. The 
surrounding country is of great beauty, not so rugged as that 
near Liege, but rich in agricultural wealth, and having here 



192 A HOLIDAY TOUR. 

and there a round-topped hill raised up generally with a church 
or a chateau on top, to vary the attractions of the landscape. 
As we passed the neat little German railway stations, the ser- 
vants came out with their glasses and we were greeted with the 
familiar sound of " Swei lager." The women went about in 
wooden shoes and carried their baggage on their heads. The 
little girls with their three-cornered neckerchiefs and ponderous 
gowns looked like reduced facsimiles of their grandmothers. 
The villages, around which so many legends clustered, had be- 
come the location of matter-of-fact factories and iron-works, 
giving evidence of busy industry, some of these establish- 
ments being of great size, with small mountains of slag out- 
lying them. Then the country again flattened into an almost 
treeless prairie, and for miles before reaching Cologne was more 
like a section of Illinois than anything else it can be compared 
to. There was not a hedge or a fence to mar the symmetry 
of the broad expanse of agricultural land which both men 
and women were busily cultivating, gathering in and stacking 
their ripened crops, or else ploughing and harrowing the ground 
for new ones. Finally, as we approached Cologne, the tall 
Cathedral could be seen for miles away, reaching far above the 
houses ; and passing through the massive fortifications and over 
the drawbridge we entered the station, and I found that the 
school lesson must again be unlearned, for all the people who 
lived in Cologne were writing it " Coin." 

virgins' bones and cologne water. 

The visitor to the ancient city of Cologne, as he tries to 
travel its crooked streets of variable width, and to keep a foot- 
ing on its remarkable sidewalks, that frequently narrow to six 
inches and often disappear altogether, soon finds that whilst 
its great possession is the bones of the Eleven Thousand Vir- 
gins, its great puzzle is to determine who makes the genuine 
Cologne water. The people of Cologne themselves do not 
seem to be able to settle this question, as there are some thirty 
establishments, the owner of each claiming to be the only genu- 
ine maker of the famous fluid. It seems that one Jean Maria 
Farina, who lived in former times, was in his day the veritable 
maker. In this they are all agreed ; but unfortunately he 
could not live forever, and each of the thirty now claims to 
be his only direct descendant and successor. The old fellow 



VIRGINS' BONES AND COLOGNE WATER. 193 

either had a very large family, or else somebody hangs out 
false lights ; and as nearly every druggist in the United States 
is also a maker of " genuine" Cologne water, which he com- 
pounds in his little back office, Jean Maria Farina's mantle 
must have been divided into many pieces. But, be this as it 
may, the Cologne puzzle is still unsolved, and the more one 
tries to solve it the more mysterious it becomes. The chief 
occupation of the townspeople seems to be to tout for these 
Cologne water makers. The waiters in the hotels and people 
on the street are all imploring you to buy Cologne, and when 
your coffee and eggs come to the hotel table in the morning, a 
neat specimen Cologne bottle is delicately laid alongside as a 
reminder of the visitor's duty to buy. If an American can 
get out of Cologne without buying a bottle he will possess 
much more endurance than the race usually has. 

The Virgins' bones are a greater curiosity of Cologne than 
the Cathedral, and yet we rarely hear of them in America. 
Among thousands of legends of the Rhine is that of the pious 
St. Ursula and the eleven thousand virgins, who fourteen hun- 
dred years ago went up the river on a pilgrimage to Rome, 
and returning were all murdered by the Huns. Their bones 
were gathered together, and, in some way unexplained, were 
brought to Cologne «nd buried in a common tomb, over which, 
after many years, was erected the present Church of St. Ursula, 
which is eight hundred and fifty years old. Subsequently the 
bones were exhumed from beneath the church, brought up into 
it, and placed around it, forming one of the most extraordinary 
displays that the eyes of man ever witnessed. The church is 
not very large, and its heavy walls, low ceilings, and ancient 
style of construction show its antiquity. All around this 
church are encased the skulls and bones, large stone receptacles 
being filled with them, with apertures in the sides through 
which the bones can be seen, and the skulls being put on rows 
of little shelves divided off like pigeon-holes. All the skulls 
have the part below the forehead covered with needie-work 
and embroidery, and some of them are inlaid with pearls and 
precious stones. The collection is certainly a remarkable one, 
there being, besides the collections of bones, eighteen hundred 
of these skulls arranged in cases around the church, whilst in 
an apartment known as the Treasury, which is about thirty 
feet square, there are seven hundred and thirty-two more skulls 
i 17 



194 A HOLIDAY TOUR. 

on the walls, and the entire upper portion is covered with bones, 
which are arranged everywhere, excepting where the windows 
let in light. Here, under special glass cases, are the skulls of 
St. Ursula herself, her lover, and several of the principal vir- 
gins, together with the bones of her right and left arm and 
one foot. There are also other relics, including one of the 
alabaster vases wherein the Saviour turned the water into wine. 
This vase would hold about four gallons ; but part of the mouth 
and one handle are gone, and it is so cracked and dilapidated 
that it probably will hold very little now. It bears evidence 
of great antiquity, being worn quite thin in some places, and 
is partially transparent, whilst the edges show the wearing 
caused by pouring out a fluid. 

The Cologne Cathedral is as grand as ever, and the means 
being furnished by the German Government, its great towers, 
which are to be five hundred feet high, are gradually rising, 
and before long will be capped with the admirable spires that 
will make it the finest church in Northern Europe. This 
Cathedral of St. Peter's is, next to St. Peter's at Rome, the 
largest church in the world, and its builders, who have been 
laboring for six hundred years, begin to anticipate its com- 
pletion. The masons can be heard among the scaffolding 
away up aloft, chipping the stone, and- steam-hoists busily 
raise the materials that are being gradually converted into the 
delicate tracery of the spires. This church is, inside, the 
most impressive I ever saw. The narrow nave and transepts 
seem to lift the roof away above you, and the length of over 
five hundred feet makes all the inside distances very great. 
The stained glass of this grand church is very fine, and the 
work upon it seems to be in every way complete, excepting 
that upon the towers, which, it is said, will take five million 
dollars to finish. The great relic in this Cathedral is the fine 
silver vase which contains the skulls of the " Three Kings of 
Cologne," who were believed to be the three wise men who 
came from the East with presents for the infant Saviour. 
This treasure originally came from Milan, and it is highly 
prized. The choir is rich in statues, frescoes, and fine carv- 
ings, and, in fact, this church is one of the most wonderful 
constructions in the world. The ancient city which contains 
it has not belied the odorous reputation given it by Coleridge, 
for, despite the liberal supplies of Cologne water with which 



THE RHINE AND SOME OF ITS LEGENDS. 195 

it abounds, there still are localities in it that evidently need 
more. Said Coleridge : 

"Ye nymphs who reign o'er sewers and sinks, 

The river Rhine, it is well known, 

Doth wash your city of Cologne; 
But tell me, nymphs, what power divine 
Shall henceforth wash the river Rhine Y* 



LETTER XXXIY. 

THE RHINE AND SOME OP ITS LEGENDS. 

Mayence, September 13. 

The river Rhine, the most famous and the finest river in 
Europe, flows eight hundred miles from the Alps to the sea. 
Its vine-clad, castellated banks are renowned in song and 
etory, and from Cologne up to Mayence, for that is the por- 
tion of the river which is most attractive, there is not a town, 
or hill, or rock, or island that has not its tradition. From 
Cologne up to above Bonn the pretty little steamer, which 
is built with a saloon deck, like a miniature of our Delaware 
River steamboats, takes the traveller between low green banks, 
which remind one very much of a trip on the Delaware be- 
tween Wilmington and Philadelphia, excepting that the Rhine 
is much narrower, and we do not see at home the picturesque 
little windmills that are frequent near the banks or the dykes 
that occasionally run out from the shores to improve the depth 
of water in the channel. The river current runs swiftly down, 
and bears on its bosom all sorts of craft, which the boatmen 
steer with long, oar-like rudders, ahead and astern. There are 
rafts of timber in profusion, for the forests of the Upper Rhine 
contribute nearly all the timber used below ; and there are sail- 
vessels laden with empty petroleum barrels, going back to the 
seaport for shipment to America. Steamboats with long lines 
of barges and other vessels laden with coal and supplies that 
come from the sea, slowly toil up-stream against the current, 
and at Cologne make them take out a portion of their curious 
bridge of boats so as to give a passage through. Cologne, with 



196 A HOLIDAY TOUR. 

its powerful defensive works of stone and brick, and grassy 
slope and moat, and its loop-holed round towers and conical- 
peaked church steeples, is left early in the morning. For 
miles away, as the steamboat courses along between the wind- 
ing but low banks of the crooked river, the tall Cathedral and 
the scaffolding around its unfinished towers can be seen. Its 
origin is shrouded in mystery, and the legend tells us that the 
first architect, perplexed by myriads of plans from which he 
could not select one to suit him, finally dreamed of one which 
his Satanic Majesty opportunely presented, and, after consid- 
erable negotiation, sold his own soul and that of the first per- 
son who was to enter the church in return for it. When the 
consecration came, however, the Archbishop, although he could 
not save the architect, endeavored to prevent the sacrifice of 
another soul, and got a female malefactor condemned to die to 
agree to enter the Cathedral first. She was brought out with 
solemn ceremonies in a covered box, which was taken to the 
church door and the box being opened, crept into the church, 
and Satan, who was waiting inside, quickly seized her and 
broke her neck, and then rushing to the architect's house, in- 
flicted a like fate upon him. But lo ! when he had gone out 
of the church, the woman suddenly emerged from the box 
alive and well, and was given her freedom. His Majesty had 
been fooled by a pig clad in a woman's gown, and there was 
great rejoicing in Cologne. 

Bonn, with its University, which attracts students from all 
parts of the world, and its paved levees and stone-protected 
river-banks, is touched at for a moment, and its ancient- 
looking houses are very pretty with their round and conical 
towers and their little gardens ; and then the ranges of hills 
of the famous Siebenbierge — the seven mountains — begin 
to loom up in the distance. As we approach them the lofty 
peak of the Drachenfels is seen, with the top an almost 
precipitous cliff, on which are perched the gaunt gray ruins 
of the old castle, nearly fifteen hundred feet above the river, 
in which the robber chieftains of this part of the Rhine for- 
merly had their stronghold, and spying out the vessels as they 
sailed along the river, came down to levy toll from the poor 
mariner. The upper part of the mountain is covered with trees 
below the cliff, and the lower with grape-vines, whilst along 
the river's edge the railway runs and pretty cottages stand em- 



RHINE WINES. 197 

bosomed in trees. The seven mountains raise up their lofty 
heads in a sort of curved line running diagonally back from 
the river. Here is the cave wherein the famous Siegfried 
killed the dragon and released the maid, who afterwards duti- 
fully married her deliverer, as she ought, and they founded the 
castle on top of the Drachenfels, the highest mountain of the 
seven. People, looking like little specks, were wandering among 
its ruins, and a white tent was set up near by as their abiding- 
place. Just above this ruin, on an island in the river, is the 
former convent of St. Ursula, whilst high up on the hills of 
the opposite shore are the ruins of the Rolandseck, where 
Charlemagne's nephew, Roland, lived to watch the convent 
wherein his intended bride had immured herself on hearing a 
false report of his death. Trees above and vines below cover 
the hill-sides, and at least a score of pretty cottages and min- 
iature castles are seen along the river-bank. 

RHINE WINES. 

Now we come into the land of the "heims" and the 
" steins," — well known in America by the names on imported 
Rhine wine-bottles, — where the hills on both banks run down 
steeply to the river, giving charming scenery, and from the 
vines which cover them furnishing the famous wines of this 
region, — each hill growing a different flavor, and each flavor 
being recognized by those practised in their use by a different 
name, — the beginning of which it is hard to recollect, whilst 
the end generally terminates with the affix " heim" or " stein." 
Hills so steep that they would be rejected by cultivators in 
America, are here made enormously valuable by being terraced 
for vine-growing, the soil being sometimes carried up in baskets, 
whilst the people who till them seem literally to hold on by the 
eyelids. Wherever it is possible for human hands to hold on, 
or for human feet to tread, the grape is cultivated, and some of 
the vineyards are esteemed so sacred that even the bruised 
fruit that falls to the ground is preserved for the wine-press. 
Railways run along the river-bank on both sides, and the fre- 
quently passing trains take some of the romance from the 
"vine-clad hills" and " fields which promise corn and wine," 
of which Byron has sung so sweetly. 

It must not be inferred, however, that the Rhine is through- 
out the romantic stream that steep hills and narrow valleys 

17* 



198 A HOLIDAY TOUR. 

make, for there are long reaches where the hills, falling far back 
from the river, leave broad stretches of level land. Here are 
frequent villages, large mills, and in several places most exten- 
sive iron-works. But among them all appear the occasional 
ruins of old castles, and the square- and conical-topped towers 
of the middle ages, to recall the former days when this river 
was the constant scene of feudal robberies and quarrels. After 
passing through a protracted stretch of almost level country, 
wnich is availed of to take dinner, which meal the polyglot 
assemblage of passengers, though hailing from all parts of the 
worid, wash down with copious draughts of Rhine wine, of a 
great variety of vintages, the steamer in the afternoon ap- 
proaches the magnificent scenery in the neighborhood of Cob- 
lentz, which was the Confluenza of the Romans, standing at 
the confluence of the Rhine and the Moselle. 

THE WACHT AM RHEIN. 

The river, sweeping grandly around to the right, discloses 
on the left hand the towering rock of Ehrenbreitstein, one of 
the greatest fortresses of Europe. This fort is on a broad- 
topped and almost isolated rock, four hundred feet high, whose 
precipitous sides are covered with a maze of batteries and forti- 
fications, towers, drawbridges, and galleries, the prominent 
feature being a long flight of steps running up the river side 
of the rock, and a gradually-ascending roadway which passes 
around it and enters the top on the land side. It presents 
every outward indication of the impregnability for which it is 
so famous ; and, though often besieged, it has only been cap- 
tured twice, first by stratagem and afterwards by starvation, 
never by actual force. Over it floats the German flag, in token 
of the Kaiser's mastery of the Rhine, which skill and Ehren- 
breitstein give him. Five thousand men are sufficient to man 
this great fortress, but it will accommodate one hundred thou- 
sand, and can store ten years' provisions for eight thousand 
men in its capacious magazines, which at present contain fifty 
thousand needle-guns. The Rhine and Moselle at this point 
fairly bristle with fortifications. All the hills near the great 
work are covered with batteries, whilst the row of hotels on 
the river-bank, which is what the traveller first sees of Cob- 
lentz, is protected by water-batteries and towers, and on back, 
front, sides, and far away in the inland hills cannon bristle 



THE WACHT AM RHEIN. 199 

and the gray stone facings of the earthworks show that the 
place is to be held with a strong hand. In fact, this is the 
key to the great river, and Germany carefully keeps " Wacht 
am Rhein." 

The Coblentz bridge of boats is taken apart to let us through ; 
we pass under the pretty railway bridge, and farther along go 
beneath the airy suspension bridge which is building above 
the city, and journey on to the Upper Rhine. Here come suc- 
cessively in sight castle after castle on the passing hill-tops, all 
of them the scenes of legends, and most of them reconstructed 
by their owners of the present day and made into attractive 
residences. From their lofty perches, three hundred to five 
hundred feet above us, these lordly castles seem to look down 
upon the passing traveller in disdain. They have been there 
for centuries ; we but a moment in a single day. Here we 
pass the romantic river Lahn, which comes in on the eastern 
side ; the Konigstuhl, where the old Electors of the Rhine 
held their meetings, with its dark-gray tower, at the water's 
edge, with the seat on top where they deliberated ; the pictur- 
esque Lahneck, where an Irish gentleman has made out of an 
old Electoral castle a beautiful modern home ; Marksburg, five 
hundred feet above the river, where the Counts of Katzanellen- 
bogen once lived to furnish materials for any number of tales, 
and from its square-topped towers on the conical hill came 
down to the river to fight their foes, and if they caught them 
put them into the horrible dungeons beneath the castle, where 
they were tortured ; Leibeneck, which appears more like a 
church than a castle, with its peaked spire, and which looks 
down upon the great dyke that is constructed in mid-river for 
a long distance here as the stream sweeps around to the east, 
so as to throw the bulk of the current into the channel on the 
outer side of the curve. The Rhine, as it approaches Boppard 
from the north, sweeps grandly around first one way and then 
the other among the hills, and is a strong reminder of much 
similar scenery on the Upper Allegheny River, in Western 
Pennsylvania. The Allegheny has not the castles or the vines, 
but it has almost everything else in the way of fine river 
scenery that is visible on this part of the Rhine. It only 
needs to be more thickly peopled and to be more talked about 
to aspire to popularity. 



200 A HOLIDAY TOUR. 



BOPPARD, THE CAT, AND THE LURELIE. 

Boppard, with its ancient walls, and its old convent turned 
into a modern water-cure establishment, and its double-spired 
church, is passed, and recalls the tale of Conrad and Heinrich 
von Boppard, who loved the same lady, and the older yielding 
to the younger the idol's hand, both went to the crusades; but 
the younger, forgetting his German love, returned with a 
Grecian bride. Then the jilted lady shut herself up in a 
lonely chamber, and the elder brother, coming back to find 
that the younger had been perfidious, challenged him to mortal 
combat. But, instead of one killing the other, as would 
probably have been the case in these prosaic days, the lady 
who caused all the trouble appeared at the opportune moment, 
compelled a reconciliation, and afterwards retired to a convent. 
Then the brothers each built a castle so as to look at the con- 
vent, and the visitor is shown the convent on the bank and 
up on the top of the hill the ruins of the two castles. I had 
almost forgotten to mention that the Grecian bride referred 
to, just at the proper time to make the tale complete, proved 
faithless to her husband and disappeared. Here, as the river 
narrows, the hills come even closer to the bank, and castle 
after castle passes in review. Here is the imposing ruin of 
the Rheinfels, founded by the Katzanellenbogens, who have 
had so much to do with the robber history of the Rhine, used 
by them to collect toll, and finally, becoming a strong fortress 
famous in many conflicts, abandoned in the last century be- 
cause superseded by the improvements of modern warfare. 
Here, also, on the opposite bank, near St. Zoar, is the new 
Katzanellenbogen castle, called familiarly the " Cat," which 
was also abandoned about the same time. The German tri- 
color floats above it. Then rises, almost perpendicularly from 
the river, to a height of four hundred and fifty feet, the 
famous Lurelie Bock, where dwelt the beautiful siren who 
used to lure her lovers by attractive music to her feet and 
then drown them in the waves that washed the base of the 
rock. She does not do it any more, however, and the railway 
has pierced a tunnel through her rock, which is now only 
famous for its echo, whilst some bold German has planted a 
flag-staff on its pinnacle. At Oberwesel, near by, where the 
principal hotel is called the " Golden Corkscrew," are the 



BOPPAED, THE CAT, AND THE LURELIE. 201 

ruins of Schomberg Castle, where lived the Seven Sisters. 
All along this most romantic portion of the Rhine it turns 
and twists among the precipitous rocks, which in many por- 
tions are too steep even for the vine-growers to cultivate, 
whilst the railway trains on both banks dart in and out of 
the frequent tunnels that are necessary to get them through 
the gorge. As the river becomes narrower the current also 
gets stronger. Churches with difficulty secure a foundation 
on the hill-sides, whilst ponderous round towers guard the 
water's edge, the outposts of castles farther inland. Rocks 
interrupt the channel and make navigation difficult, and thus 
the Rhine continues its romantic course up to Bacharach, 
whence come the famous wines ; the curious old castle of 
Pfalz, with its projecting gables, being built on a low island, 
in mid-river, and washed by the swift current, a short distance 
below. 

Bacharach nestles in a narrow indentation among the hills 
and along a little verge of level ground on the river-bank. 
In front of it is the rock in the river from which the town 
gets its name. This rock marks the depth of water in the 
Rhine, and when uncovered denotes a dry season. The vine 
loves a dry season, and, as the rock was uncovered when we 
passed it, I supposed Bacharach's wine-growers were happy. 
Their product is one of the famous vintages of the Rhine, 
prized like the Johannisberger by crowned heads. The town 
looked well, with its cathedral ruins in the background, and 
Stahlick Castle on the hill behind it. Furstenberg Castle, 
also in ruins, but having a fine round tower standing, is passed 
above; and then at Lorch, on the eastern bank, almost op- 
posite, comes in the picturesque stream, the Wisper. Up this 
valley lived any number of fairies, elves, and mountain sprites 
who played all sorts of pranks with the people and their love- 
aifairs. Next pass in quick review the castles of Heimberg, 
Sooneck, and Falkenberg, all built by robber knights, and now 
in ruins. Rheinstein, on the opposite bank, is in good repair, 
and is maintained to exhibit a feudal castle of the middle ages. 
The scenery along the Rhine at this part is very much like the 
Hudson River near West Point. It has the hills, the steep 
banks, and the beautiful views, and, as the steamer approaches 
the junction with the river Nahe, the Rhine sweeps grandly 
around the broad hill that is terraced with vines to the sum- 



202 A HOLIDAY TOUR. 

mit, and is known as the Rudesheimer Berg, and produces 
that famous brand of wine; and before us in the distance, 
looking past a strange little tower on an island in mid-stream, 
is the far-famed town of Bingen, — " Sweet Bingen on the 
Rhine." 

BINGEN AND THE MOUSE TOWER. 

Few towns in the world have a more lovely position than 
this famous little town of Bingen. Standing at the entrance 
of the beautiful Nahe Valley, it looks out upon hill and vale 
and river scenery in all directions, the Rhine broadening be- 
fore it, whilst opposite is the great hill of Rudesheim, and 
behind and on either hand are picturesque castles and delicious 
cottages that fitly set the outlines of the scene. The strange 
little Mouse Tower, wherein, as Southey's ballad has described, 
the army of rats from the shore picked Bishop Hatto's bones, 
is on its little island almost in front, whilst other little islands 
dot the water. Bingen's glorious situation is a fitting close to 
the beauties of the Rhine, which began at the towering crag 
of Drachenfels; and as the day waned and the moon cast a 
silver sheen over the river, hills, castles, and town, the effect 
was almost enchanting. Here the Rhine scenery ends, for 
the banks above Bingen sink to flat land, — pretty with their 
fringes of trees, but tame compared with the views below. 
The great Johannisberg Castle and vineyard are passed above 
Bingen ; and a short distance farther the Rhine steamboat 
journey is ended at Mayence. This is one hundred and 
eighteen miles from Cologne, and the voyage is accomplished 
against the swift current of the river in almost twelve hours. 
Mayence will commend itself to the printing craft as the 
birthplace of Gutenberg, whose memory is kept green by a 
handsome statue by Thorwaldsen. Here, where the Main 
flows into the Rhine, is the heart of the famous Rheingau, — ■ 
the region that produces the finest wines. The entire country 
here is a blooming wine-garden, and, as I end my voyage, 
which is one of the most famous river-voyages that can be 
taken, so must I end this long letter, jotted down as the 
journey progressed, in the hope that it may give pleasure to 
friends at home, and recall to some green memories of one of 
the brightest regions of the Fatherland. 



THE OLD RED SANDSTONE. 203 

LETTER XXXV. 

THE OLD RED SANDSTONE. 

Baden-Baden, September 15. 

We have at length got into the land where the traveller 
sleeps under the feather bed instead of on top of it, and 
where the chambermaid bids him good-night before he retires. 
The Fatherland provides you with every comfort at reason- 
able prices, treats you the most politely in essential things of 
any nation of Western Europe, and has better railway car- 
riages at much less fare than either England or France. The 
landlord receives you at the hotel door on arrival, and when 
you depart, takes off his hat and shakes you by the hand, — 
these courtesies being rarely committed to subordinates. The 
people of all degrees are polite, and what astonished me the 
most was to find the almost universal knowledge of the Eng- 
lish language, not only among the hotel servants, where con- 
tact with English-speaking travellers would impart it, but also 
among the shop-keepers, market-people, and similar classes. 
Along the entire Rhine and its neighborhood this knowledge 
of enough English to make themselves understood seemed to 
be quite general, and it gave token of a culture that I did not 
expect to find. In fact, without any knowledge of German, 
I could manage to get on quite well, being sure to find some- 
where an English-speaking German who could comprehend 
my language, this being the rule among the lower as well as 
the higher classes. This will impress itself upon most visitors, 
and equally strong will be the impression also made by the 
old red sandstone which is used for all the great edifices in 
the Rhine region, from Mayence southward, and which is an 
entirely different colored stone from that used in most other 
parts of Europe. 

This is also a land of fortresses and battle-fields, full of the 
marks of war, for it has been fought about for centuries, and 
has been alternately in possession of French and German for 
years back. Mayence, where the Main flows into the Rhine, 
is a strong fortress, surrounded by the most skilfully-con- 



204 A HOLIDAY TOUR. 

structed defensive works, and has frequently been a bone of 
contention. In the older parts it is a city of singularly 
crooked, narrow streets, innocent of sidewalks, and opening 
into irregular-shaped squares, which are used as market-places. 
Here come in the women from the country on market days, 
trudging along, as in all this part of Germany, with their 
baskets of produce on their heads, or if they are a little better 
to do in this world's goods, riding on a cart, to which is 
hitched the family cow, driven with reins like a horse. The 
people flock to the market-places to gossip and buy, the 
women with wooden shoes and stiflly-starched handkerchiefs 
tied over their heads, and judging from the light baskets they 
carried home most of them gossiped more than they bought. 
It is astonishing what a very little amount some of these 
people would buy and what a long time it took to get it. 
Two eggs, three potatoes, and one apple are not much to feed 
a family on for a day, yet many of the buyers, after running 
over the market for an hour, went off with no more, though 
they probably heard all the news that was afloat. 

The red sandstone stands out prominently in the quaint old 
Cathedral at Mayence, with its strange-looking towers, and in 
many a house and monument and public fountain about the 
ancient-looking town. It has a tine effect, and does not seem 
to be so soft as the stone of Paris or of England, for it does 
not wear away so quickly. The old Cathedral, which is having 
a new altar erected, is a fine specimen of pure Romanesque 
architecture, and though it has been bombarded and burned 
and battered in the wars that have raged around Mayence, it 
is again in good repair, and its frescoes and windows and 
statues are well worth looking at. In it are the monuments 
of the Electors of Mayence, among which the French troops, 
during the first Napoleon's time, used to barrack ; but the 
Prussian troops, in their helmets with spikes on top and their 
soldierly-looking uniforms, are seen all about Mayence now, 
showing that the Kaiser holds it with a strong hand. The 
little town and its bridge of boats will amply repay a visit, for 
it is one of the most ancient cities of this ancient land, and 
shows every evidence of antiquity. From Mayence a short 
ride over the almost level plain bordering the Rhine, which 
in parts resembles a Western prairie, and in other parts is like 
a section cut out of the New Jersey pines, brings the visitor 




THE SHATTERED TOWER, HEIDELBERG. 



HEIDELBERG. 205 

to Heidelberg. To reach this famous city the railway leaves 
the level plain, and turning up the valley of the Neckar goes 
in among the hills and forests of the Odenwald, where Heidel- 
berg is built on a long, narrow strip of land adjoining that 
swift-flowing stream. Here, in one of the most beautiful 
spots that could be selected, the famous University, founded 
five hundred years ago, educates its students, and attracts men 
who desire culture from the New as well as from the Old 
World. 

HEIDELBERG. 

In America, college education is said to be chiefly directed 
to learning how to win boat-races, whilst in Heidelberg its object 
seems to be to teach how to fight. You see the Heidelberg 
students walking about, and at table, with faces and arms full 
of scars and wounds, and wonder whether the wars which for 
years have desolated these frontiers are really ended. On in- 
quiry it is discovered that over one-quarter of the eight hun- 
dred and odd students who are in attendance at the University 
are attached to seven or eight different corps ; that this attach- 
ment to fighting bodies seems to be a leading part of the col- 
legiate system ; and that the jealousy between the corps runs so 
high, that fighting with swords between the students is con- 
tinual. This military education and practice is of course nat- 
ural in a city which in the wars that have been fought around 
it has been five times bombarded, three times pillaged, and 
twice burnt ; and down upon which from its perch up on the 
hill look the ruins of the famous Schloss, or Castle, which 
has itself been battered as badly as any part of the town. 
Every Friday the students fight their duels in a house over 
the Neckar, using sharp double-edged swords, which inflict 
frequent and ugly wounds. If the contest is for the honor of 
the corps, the students wear bandages for protection, but if it 
is a duel to resent an insult, they fight to hurt. All the fights 
are limited to fifteen minutes' duration, and the one having 
the fewest cuts is declared the victor. The University itself 
is a modest building, of little pretensions, though it has such 
great fame, and it is entirely eclipsed by the three greater 
sights of Heidelberg, — the Schloss, the Tun, and the Church 
of the Holy Ghost. 

The Schloss or Castle stands on the steep hill, back of and 
18 



206 ^ HOLIDAY TOUR. 

almost overhanging the town, and is about three hundred feet 
above it. It is built of the old red sandstone, and is one of 
the finest and most attractive ruins in the world. In its day 
it was one of the most extensive and famous of the German 
castles, but bombardment, fire, lightning, and gunpowder ex- 
plosions have all contributed to its ruin, and now it is as care- 
fully preserved, with its broken walls, roofless apartments, and 
overthrown towers, all overgrown with ivy, as is possible to do 
it. It is a much more remarkable ruin than Kenilworth, 
which has got much more fame ; and there is ivy here with 
stalks resembling the trunks of trees, which has been overrun- 
ning the walls for centuries. The amazing strength of con- 
struction by the Germans of the middle ages is shown by the 
walls, fifteen to twenty feet thick, and by the wonderful adhe- 
sion of the masonry of the towers, which, when blown up by 
the French, did not crumble to pieces, but fell over in a solid 
mass, and now lie far down the hill unbroken. The cement 
in those days held better than some that we have now. This 
Castle was evidently built for a fighting race, as every appliance 
of defence known at the time is provided, whilst the artistic 
skill shown in the ornamentation of the fronts of the buildings 
in the interior court is remarkable. 

The American reader has probably heard more of the Hei- 
delberg Tun than of the Heidelberg Schloss, though the Schloss 
contains the Tun. Down in the cellar, under the chapel, and 
in a vault built especially for it, is this famous Tun, the largest 
wine-cask in the world, built for the Elector Charles Theodore 
over one hundred and twenty-five years ago, to hold eight hun- 
dred hogsheads of Neckar wine. It lies on its side, and is 
thirty-two feet long and twenty-three feet in height. Enor- 
mous wooden hoops hold it together, and you can go on top 
and look in at the bung-hole, which is about three inches in" 
diameter. In front of it stands a strange statue of a fat little 
fellow, all puffed out and swollen, and the German woman who 
exhibits the Castle, pointing to the Tun, says, " that holds three 
hundred thousand bottles of wine," and then pointing to the 
statue, adds, " that held eighteen bottles." The statue is that 
of Perkeo, the Elector's court-fool, who could drink eighteen 
bottles of strong wine at one sitting, and never went to bed 
sober. The Tun, like poor Perkeo, has no wine in now. It 
has been filled three times, but has been empty for many years, 



HEIDELBERG. 207 

The Church of the Holy Ghost is another sight of Heidel- 
berg, not that it is architecturally "very fine, or is very large, 
but on account of its curious history. The religious wars of 
these countries have raged furiously around and in this church. 
It was at first a Catholic church, then a Protestant church, and 
then was used by both religions conjointly, and in order to en- 
able both to worship, a dividing wall was constructed in the 
middle of the church, running across the transept, and effect- 
ually cutting off the nave from the choir. This wall was 
erected in 1705, after the church had been fought about for 
nearly two hundred years, and the fiercest combats had raged 
to settle which religion should worship in it. The Catholics 
afterwards worshipped in the choir and the Protestants in the 
nave. But building the wall by no means ended the strife. 
Each party wanted to oust the other and get possession of the 
whole building. In 1719 the Catholics put out the Protest- 
ants and the wall was torn down, but the latter appealing to 
the Diet of the German Empire, they were restored and the 
wall was rebuilt. The fighting over the party- wall in this 
quaint old church at times involved in dispute the whole Ger- 
man Empire. At present the wall is intact, the Lutherans 
worshipping at one end and the sect known as the Old Catho- 
lics at the other. There is very little inside that is attractive, 
but outside the free-and-easy way in which all sorts of dealers 
have set up their booths against the church walls is rather 
noticeable. 

To climb up to the Konigstuhl, or the " King's seat," on top 
of the hill behind Heidelberg, is the proper thing to do, for 
it gives a magnificent view of the valley of the Neckar, of the 
town, and far away to the left of the level plain bordering the 
Rhine. This view discloses a picture not unlike that seen 
from the top of Mount Pisgah, at Mauch Chunk. At your 
feet the narrow town stretches along the edge of the river, 
which winds through the steep, thick-wooded hills on both 
sides. The railway, with its moving trains, is seen far below, 
and there comes up the distant noise of moving wheels. On 
the right the river can be traced until it is lost among the 
hills of the Odenwald, whence it takes its source. On the 
left it passes out of the hill country and meanders through 
the plain until it falls into the Rhine, a silver streak far away 
at Mannheim. This Konigstuhl has spread out before it one 



208 A HOLIDAY TOUR. 

of the finest landscapes in the Rhine country, and it has been 
appropriated, as we would do in America with such an attrac- 
tive place, to a restaurant, probably by some Germau emigrant, 
who has been to the new country, and taken back some Yankee 
notions with him. But he treats his countrymen better than 
is done at some similar American resorts. Our Konigstuhl 
landlord does not charge for his landscape, or stint his supply 
of that universal beverage — beer. He sells better beer for 
less money than in our free country, and is too honest to hold 
the glass " high down" when he draws it, so as to get his 
profit from the froth. 

The State Railway of the Grand Duchy of Baden carried 
me from this attractive city south again, over the level plain 
adjoining the Rhine, among the rich fields and growing vines, 
and through the fine pastures of Baden, past Carlsruhe, and 
through the great fortress of Rastadt, one of the chief of the 
chain of posts controlling the Rhine, until we came to the 
little village of Oos. The train did not move over-fast in the 
direction it was going, but it did have a very large amount of 
motion in every other direction, and most of it unnecessary. 
After being shaken about almost as much as if I had been 
riding over Philadelphia cobble-stones, a transfer to a short 
branch railway leading from Oos took us up the valley of that 
little stream into the Black Forest, and finally within the edge 
of that famous region, among its hills, landed us at Baden- 
Baden, which is probably the best known of the great watering- 
places with which this minerally impregnated region abounds 



LETTER XXXVI. 

THE GREAT GERMAN WATERING-PLACE. 

Baden-Baden, September 16. 
At Baden-Baden a perfect fusilade of church-bells waken 
up the population on Sunday morning, and then they go out 
to the Trinkhalle to hear the band play and drink that hot, 
but very thin, decoction of weak pea-soup, which is about what 
the Baden waters taste like. Then such of the people as wish 



THE GREAT GERMAN WATERING-PLACE. 209 

to do so go shopping, for the stores are all open, and a few of 
them may go to church, but the majority seem to prefer loung- 
ing about the magnificent public rooms and gardens of the 
Assembly Hall, which make a perfect paradise along the banks 
of that very little river Oos, which runs through the town. 
But Baden-Baden, though it is the most famous watering- 
place in the world, and this is the height of the season, is not 
happy. The Assembly Hall is not patronized as formerly ; 
the crowds do not come ; a sort of languor and want of popu- 
lation seems to overhang the place, though it is as beautiful 
and as attractive as ever, and though the two spigots of hot 
water still run steadily in the Trinkhalle for the free supply 
of weak, salty soup to the public. Baden-Baden lacks the 
lodestone that formerly drew the crowd, for they wander 
through the dazzling halls and miss the old familiar form of 
the croupier and his rake. The rake, the roulette-table, and 
the croupier have disappeared together. The gold is no longer 
piled up to be won or lost every few minutes as the ball runs 
around and seeks a resting-place in the red and black spaces. 
There are checkers and there are chess, but what are these to 
the old-time Baden habitue, male or female, who wanted a 
quick turn, and no brain- work excepting the calculation of 
chances. When the Kaiser defeated the French and consoli- 
dated the German Empire, one of the first results of getting 
control of Baden was to abolish the gaming-tables, and for six 
years they have been gone, to the detriment possibly of the 
town, but to the moral vindication of the German Empire. 
The men who used to rake in and out the coins on the table 
may have been among those who were raking hay in the fields 
around the town on Sunday, for agricultural work seems to go 
on every day in the week in this region, women as well as men 
being busy in the fields. 

I looked with admiration on the gardens around the Hall ; the 
ten thousand dollar Chinese Pagoda where the band plays ; the 
lovely walks and flowers ; the suites of magnificent rooms, which 
formerly contained the gaming-tables, and are as resplendent 
as mirrors, gilding, painting, and the most elaborate ornamen- 
tation can make them, and the thought would force itself 
upon me that these decorations, which are the most splendid 
of any watering-place in the world, and which cost many 
millions of money to construct, were paid for out of a part 

18* 



210 A HOLIDAY TOUR. 

of the profits of gambling, by what are called fair games. 
These fair games yielded an enormous profit to the banker, 
who paid half of it to the State Government, and out of the 
other half there was enough to satisfy him and at the same, 
time pay the great cost of all this magnificence. What a 
commentary this is on the fairness of gambling, when the 
banker can always count with certainty on a steady profit 
made from the fools who venture their money ! At Baden- 
Baden the public law was invoked to make the game as fair 
as it could be, and still the chance was against the gamester. 
How much greater, therefore, must be the adverse chances of 
the illicit gambling of America, where the intention is to 
fleece the victim ! The gardens and great rooms are main- 
tained now as formerly in all their splendor at Baden-Baden, 
and everything is clone that can be devised to attract visitors. 
There are balls twice a week ; music every day, morning and 
afternoon ; a reading-room of great merit is provided, and the 
other attractions are made most seductive, but the town shows 
that it misses the tables. It has not now the rush of visitors 
it used to have, although the number of gouty limbs and 
shattered constitutions, real or alleged, that need the waters is 
probably as great as ever. To support the magnificent estab- 
lishment a small tax is assessed on the visitors. I paid twelve 
cents. The waters come from seven springs in the side of the 
hill, and are conducted from the chief springs into the mag- 
nificent Trinkhalle, and also into enormous bathing establish- 
ments, for the water is used for vapor and other baths, as 
well as for drinking. These springs are all alkaline salt 
springs, and they yield the large outflow of over one hundred 
and seventy-one thousand gallons a day, so that the copious 
streams always run. The temperature is about 160° Fahren- 
heit, and the water pours out from the hydrants, in hot, 
steaming streams, clear and pleasant to look at, and here, in 
the early morning (for Baden-Baden visitors who lie in bed 
late at home, get up before seven o'clock, to be out in the 
magnificent Trinkhalle at the proper time), the people come 
and take their drinks. There is not much smell to the water, 
but its taste is repulsive, having a sort of greasy, weak, pea- 
soupy flavor, as if they had handed you out the contents of 
the dishpan. In fact, the whole arrangement — the running 
hot water, the sinks receiving it, the flavor of grease, and the 



THE FAVORITE PALACE. 211 

surroundings — remind strongly of the scullery. Yet you drink 
this water because it is the thing to do, and you take the 
drink amid flowers and frescoes and magnificence of all sorts, 
and to the music of one of the best bands in Europe. 

The city of Baden-Baden, which has a population of about 
twenty thousand, — frequently increased during prosperous 
seasons to seventy thousand, — stands in a valley just within 
the hills that form this portion of the famous Schwartzwald or 
Black Forest. The red sandstone and porphyry of the Rhine 
region crop out in great masses from some of the huge hills 
that surround it, and are the chief building material. Here, 
no one knows how long ago, the Romans built the old Schloss 
or Castle, a thousand feet up one of the hills, and its red sand- 
stone ruins — for it was very unkindly blown up by the French 
two centuries ago — overlook the town. From their top, where 
the Prussian tricolor floats, there is a magnificent view over 
the town, and its pretty gardens and valley with the towering 
peaks of the Black Forest far away to the left, and the broad 
plain through which flows the Rhine on the right, and in 
which the river can be traced away off in the distance to where 
the tall spire of Strasburg Cathedral stands up a little mark 
against the sky. This old Castle, with its Roman walls and 
towers, its fine ivy, and its centuries of recollection of German 
and Baden history, is now devoted to the peaceful occupation 
of selling beer. But after climbing up to it, and finding that 
after the hill is scaled the Castle still stretches up its ponderous 
towers two hundred feet above, the good beer of Baden is not 
always an unacceptable beverage. The forests on these hills 
are magnificent, full of the tallest pine, spruce, and hackma- 
tack, and were our Philadelphia ship-carpenters here they 
could get out many a vessel's mast over a hundred feet long, 
to supply which they now have to pay high prices for a very 
rare article on the Upper Susquehanna. More massive or 
straighter timber seldom grows than is found in this edge of 
the Black Forest. 

THE FAVORITE PALACE. 

A ride of about five miles out of Baden-Baden, along roads 
guarded by the statues and crucifixes with which this region 
abounds, and lined with those low, roomy houses, apparently 
all roof, eaves, and dormer-windows, that one sees in German 



212 A HOLIDAY TOUR. 

pictures, around which play the chubby-faced, flaxen-haired 
children whose little mouths seem scarcely able to hold the 
huge German words that roll out of them, brings the visitor 
to the most celebrated place in the neighborhood, the Favor- 
ite Palace. Here the Margravine Sybilla Augusta, of Baden, 
built in the seclusion of a wood a most gorgeous little palace 
as a summer retreat. She was a famous voluptuary of her 
day, and arranged a suite of rooms most highly decorated 
m ith embroideries, mirrors, and trappings of every sort. Here 
is the famous Mirror chamber, twenty feet square, surrounded 
and ceiled with little mirrors, reflecting and multiplying the 
image, yet so arranged that in one spot a person can stand and 
not be reflected in any mirror. Here is also the Florentine 
chamber, of the same size, which contains over four hundred 
miniature portraits of the famous men of her time. Another 
little room has portraits of the Margravine and her family in 
all sorts of dresses, there being seventy-two different portraits 
of each. The building is full of this kind of display, too 
gaudy for the refined taste of the present day, and in most 
marked contrast to the austerity of the little chapel called the 
Hermitage near by, where the gay Margravine secluded her- 
self in Lent, and by scourging, fasting, and prayer, made up 
for the sins of the rest of the year. Here she prepared her 
own meals and ate them at a table, on the other side of which 
sat waxen images of Jesus, Mary, and Joseph. Here she 
lived in seclusion and repentance all through Lent, and when 
it was over came out again, and was as gay and frivolous as 
ever. Neither the Palace nor the Hermitage are occupied now, 
but both are kept in the condition in which she left them, so 
as to show the method of one of the most remarkable lives 
ever passed in this part of Germany. 

Baden-Baden and its surroundings are in every way pre- 
pared for the idler and the pleasure-seeker. Like all watering- 
places, it is a town of hotels and lodging-houses. It has its 
race-course, where some of the greatest racing contests of 
Europe take place ; and its people so far recognize the fitness 
of things as to designate the place where the hot springs issue 
from the hill-side as " Hell." A church has, however, been 
erected near by, to remind the pleasure-seeker that there is 
something else to be thought of. These springs have been 
known and been visited by the invalid since the days of the 



TO STRASBURO AND BEYOND. 213 

Romans, and their flow has been unceasing. Most of the 
Baden-Baden hotels are very good ; and it is of interest to the 
American traveller to know that what he cannot get good in 
most other places in Europe he can get to perfection here, — ■ 
and that is good ice-cream, which is equal to our home-made 
article. 



LETTER XXXVIL 

TO STRASBURG AND BEYOND. 

Basle, September 17. 
From Mayence, on the Rhine, all the way south to Basle> 
past and near Carlsruhe, Baden-Baden, Strasburg, Offenburg, 
and Freiburg, the Baden State Bailway runs through the flat 
plain that borders the Rhine. For hundreds of miles it is 
a reproduction of the prairie of our West, the railway skirt- 
ing along the edge of the hills and woods of the Odenwald 
and Black Forest, and the flat plain being a perfect garden, 
much of it irrigated, and all producing luxuriant crops. The 
Germans who migrate from this region to our American 
prairie States find exactly the same kind of land as they are 
used to, but they do not find the myriads of statues and 
crosses that are set up in the fields and along the roads, or the 
strange-looking houses, with tremendous roofs, in which this 
region abounds. I have seen plenty of one- and two-storied 
houses here, with four- and five-storied roofs, each story of 
the roof having its row of dormer-windows. Some of the 
houses in the narrow streets of the villages project over the 
pavements, and the roofs of the opposite houses almost touch 
above. Other houses have on their enormous roofs ponderoir 
structures erected that look like bay-windows or hurricane 
decks, and these are altogether the oddest-looking kind of 
buildings. As the railway train rushes through the villages 
the railway guards at the road-crossings stand erect with 
helmets on their heads and their flag-staffs at shoulder arms. 
The Government controls the railways, and everything is done 
by military discipline. The engineer drills his train at the 
sound of the bugle, and the train-men blow trumpets as well 



214 A HOLIDAY TOUR. 

as whistle?, The stations are pretty, but they contain so 
many offices that are marked by so many curious signs, that 
the chief difficulty the American has is in ascertaining which 
is the name of the station. He is all the time selecting the 
imposing sign denoting in an unknown tongue the name of 
the baggage-room, or ticket-office, or toilet-room, as the name 
of the station, and causing shouts of merriment when the 
amusing mistake is discovered. 

From this railway a branch leads by a short ride from the 
main line to Strasburg. It goes westward over the level plain, 
and all the way there can be seen standing up against the sky 
the tall Cathedral and its spire, which is the highest in the 
world, — four hundred and sixty-eight feet high. This railway 
goes through a region that has been riddled by shot and shell, 
and seems to be practically a succession of forts and other 
military works. Canals and ditches intersect in the flat land, 
being a part of the military net-work which has for many years 
been drawn around Strasburg, which is one of the strongest 
fortresses of the Rhine. Here, on the great river, the French 
and Germans for two centuries faced each other and each had 
a great fortress ; the French at Strasburg and the Germans at 
Kehl. The railway first passes through the works behind 
Kehl, and then through those of Kehl and out on the bridge 
over the Rhine, with its draws at either end ready to be opened 
at a moment's notice, and each commanded by ponderous forts, 
for each nation formerly held one end of the bridge. Then 
going across canals and water-ways to Strasburg, the railway 
does not enter the city direct, for that would have interfered 
with the strong front the French presented towards the Rhine, 
but it goes completely around the city, outside the fortifica- 
tions, and finally enters through them at the back. All the 
way there is multiplied evidence of the siege of Strasburg in 
the patched condition of the houses and the numerous places 
where the earthworks have been repaired. The whole of this 
is now German. The heroic defence and capitulation of the 
French are historical. The Germans, from their well-covered 
works at Kehl, bombarded Strasburg and did the city great 
damage. It was Louis XEV.'s great fortress, planned by his 
famous engineer, Vauban, who, by his system of sluices and 
overflows for miles around, added to the citadels and forts pro- 
tecting the city, made it, for his day, impregnable. But the 



STRASBURG. 215 

American war taught the art of using long-range guns, and 
the Germans, as they shot their bolts over Vauban's ditches 
and overflows, laughed at them. But the Germans do not in- 
tend to be driven out of this fortress again if they can help it. 
The strongest side, as a French city, was towards the Rhine ; 
they are now making its strongest side towards France. On 
the north, south, and west they have thousands of men engaged 
in building new fortifications on an enormous scale, and these 
works are of such a character as to throw the old ones, which 
they replace, entirely in the shade. Galleries, vaults, bomb- 
proofs, lateral railways, and every modern appliance are availed 
of to aid the defence that these stupendous works are expected 
to make against French attacks in the future. Strasburg is to 
be a German outpost, and the Kaiser, whatever people may 
think of his seizing it, intends to hold the city at all hazards 
as one of the most valuable military positions in his possession 
on the. Rhine frontier. 

STRASBURO. 

Strasburg is not a pretty town, nor a large one, but it is the 
easiest to get lost in of any of the towns on the Rhine. The 
Germans have re-named all the streets and squares in their 
language, so that the old maps are of little use, and whilst the 
Cathedral spire is a sort of landmark, the streets are so crooked 
and most of them so narrow that the spire is difficult to find. 
The Alsace women, with the broad black bows tied on the 
backs of their head-dresses, give a picturesque look to the 
promenades in the few places that there are any, but the dis- 
covery that the street cleaning is done by women sweepers, 
who go about in gangs of a half-dozen, and wield their birch 
brooms with much more vigor than many of the tired-looking 
old fellows who do such work in Philadelphia, rather takes the 
romance out of the Alsace female style of doing things. To 
go aud see the Cathedral and the clock is the visitor's duty at 
Strasburg. The Cathedral was seriously injured, like almost 
every other building, by the bombardment, and the repairs are 
still going on. It is built of the dark-red stone usual along 
the Rhine, aud stands up like a giant, its great height render- 
ing the spire comparatively small. Its front is a wonderful 
piece, of architecture, covered with images wherever they could 
be put to add to the adornment, and its inside effect is grand. 



216 A HOLIDAY TOUR. 

They show where shells went through, and where it was bat- 
tered and broken by the bombardment, and the sextons tell in 
a language made up of words taken from a half-dozen tongues, 
and almost all mispronounced, of the Cathedral's danger and 
damages. But the Germans having almost knocked it down, 
are doing their duty in repairing it. The clock every one 
has heard of, and at noon every day it attracts a large audi- 
ence to see it go through its motions. This clock was entirely 
reconstructed with new works forty years ago, and though still 
in its old case, it thus loses much of the flavor of antiquity. 
The Engle clock, which has been exhibited in Philadelphia, is 
not so large, and yet does all that this clock does, and much 
more, and does it better. 

To my mind the chief achievement of the Strasburg clock 
is the crowing of the cock. It is an almost natural reproduc- 
tion of chanticleer's clarion, which seems to be tuned to the 
same language in England, France, and Germany as in the 
United States. My little girl says the chickens in this coun- 
try talk the same as at home, though the people don't ; but 
she is sure the chickens here do not grow as large or lay as big 
eggs. The Strasburg clock, which is about forty feet high, is 
placed on the floor of the Cathedral, and, in a little gallery 
alongside, there is a carved image representing the first archi- 
tect of the church, sitting as if looking over the railing out 
into the nave to admire his own handiwork. 

The old church of St. Thomas in Strasburg is another edi- 
fice of interest, because it contains the magnificent monument 
erected by Louis XV. to Marshal Saxe, which is one of the 
finest monuments in the world. It represents the Marshal, 
baton in hand, as having raised the French standards and van- 
quished the animals emblematic of England, Holland, and 
Austria. He walks 'boldly down the steps that lead to the 
grave, whilst France, a beautiful female figure, with one hand 
tries to deter him and with the other endeavors to keep off 
Death, standing by the coffin ready to receive him. On the 
other side Hercules weeps over the coffin. The conception 
and execution of this monument, which exceeds anything in 
Westminster Abbey, are grand. The remains of the great 
Marshal lie beneath. This church has some other famous 
tombs, among them that of Oberlin. There is a tomb to a 
Strasburg man who starved himself to death that he might 




ST. THOMAS'S CHURCH, STRASSBURG. 



STRASBURG. 217 

leave his money to the church, and carved upon it is the 
startling form of his starved and emaciated body. But the 
strangest things of all are the glass cases containing the mum- 
mies of the Duke of Nassau and his daughter, aged thirteen, 
both being carefully preserved, and the Duke, who was killed 
in battle, wearing the same clothes and shoes as when he died. 
The preservation is almost perfect, but the bodies are repulsive 
to view, even though over two centuries old. 

Strasburg is the centre of the trade in that epicurean luxury 
known as pates de fois gras, or goose-liver pie, which costly 
but not very toothsome dish is made by maltreating the poor 
goose until it gets the liver complaint, and the liver frequently 
swells until it weighs nearly as much as all the rest of the goose. 
By the cruel treatment to which they are subjected, the goose 
liver is sometimes grown until it weighs three pounds, and the 
overgrown article is then treated by the mysterious methods 
for which French cuisine is famous, and exported to all parts 
of the world. The gourmands of Europe were in trepidation 
during the siege, not because Strasburg was suffering, but be- 
cause the geese were not suffering so much as usual and the 
trade in pates was, therefore, interfered with. All around 
Strasburg, besides the evidences of the siege, are also seen 
evidences of German intention to hold the place. Their 
troops are numerous, and they can be seen on their parade- 
grounds going through the manual of arms and other exercises. 

The Baden State Railway, when it lands the passenger 
across the llhine, at Basle, takes him out of German domin- 
ions and into Switzerland, ami here the officials stand ready to 
make another Custom-House examination of baggage. It is, 
however, the merest formality. Nothing is opened. The 
traveller and the officer talk to each other in languages that 
neither understand, and the officer in disgust finally puts the 
traveller and his bags out of the station, forgetting even to 
chalk them. Neither knowing what to do, this probably was 
the best horn of the dilemma. 



19 



218 A HOLIDAY TOUR. 

LETTER XXXVIII. 

ALPINE SCENERY. 

Lucerne, September 19. 
The Swiss Alpine scenery has been praised by all men and 
in all ages, and it is worthy of all praise. Yet we have near 
home, at Philadelphia, scenes as lovely and views as fine as 
the northern approach to the spurs of the Alps by the railway 
between Basle and Olten. This railway, which runs for about 
thirty-five miles through Northern Switzerland, bears in many 
respects a strong resemblance to the Reading Railroad's Per- 
kiomen route from Philadelphia to the Lehigh Valley. The 
resemblance is strengthened by the fact that this portion of 
Switzerland, like our Pennsylvania Hassensach, is German, and 
that the railway in each case twists in and out among the hills, 
running up the valley of a stream, the land being cultivated 
at the bottom, whilst the hill-sides are rugged and heavily 
timbered ; and this railway also runs up grade to a tunnel at 
the summit, just as the Perkiomen Railway does, and then 
descends amid lovely scenery on the other side. This line is 
praised throughout Europe as one of the most famous in 
Switzerland for beautiful scenery ; but it is no better than that 
seen on the railway I have referred to, which is almost within 
an hour's ride of Philadelphia. After passing Olten, how- 
ever, the scenery exceeds anything that we can present, for 
whilst the immediate scenery becomes tamer, the distant ap- 
pearance of the snow-capped Alps gives it a charm that has 
an almost electric effect upon the passengers. Thus, as the 
train runs along the famous little Lake Sempach all hands are 
agog jumping hither and thither to get a peep at the snow- 
topped peaks, which change their positions most provokingly 
as the very crooked railway turns about along the edges of the 
hills. The fact that here, five hundred years ago, Arnold 
"Winkelreid "made way for liberty and died," and in doing 
it founded the freedom of the Swiss, is of much less impor- 
tance than this, the first sight to many of the snow-covei ed 
mountains. Pretty little Swiss cottages, the perfect originals 



ALPINE SCENERY. 219 

of the toy-houses that are sent to America, are quickly passed 
by the roadside ; also any number of country wagons that 
look like Jersey charcoal-teams, and to some of which a horse 
and ox are yoked together. Everything is German in appear- 
ance and language, and finally the two grand peaks of Rigi 
and Pilatus rise up before us, and the train runs into the sta- 
tion at Lucerne, almost between them. 

Here, at the bottom of the famous Lake Lucerne, which has 
the loveliest lake scenery in Switzerland, I look out of the 
room window as I write this, with forty-two Alpine peaks in 
full view before me. On the left hand Rigi mounts up against 
the sky, and on the right Pilatus with itj serrated jagged top. 
They rise six thousand feet above the sea, and seen between 
them, but far oif, over the calm waters of the lake, are the 
higher but more distant peaks of the Alps, many of them 
shining dazzlingly white as the sunlight falls upon their snowy 
caps. Clouds float over the water below these peaks, and 
fleece after fleece obscures the top of Rigi, the hotels on the 
summit being one minute hidden, and the next in full view. 
Little steamboats course over the lake, fur the great numbers 
of tourists require several routes of travel. Tiny rowboats 
take out the fisherman, whose luck, however, is generally poor, 
and as the night approaches the shore lights up with hundreds 
of lamps in the houses of the town on either hand, which 
makes the scene a perfect fairy-land. It is no wonder, with 
this great attraction in full view in front, that Lucerne has so 
many hotels, or that their proprietors can afford to provide 
bands of music to help the guests eat dinner. Both continents 
pour out their tribute to the lucky landlords whose lot fell in 
this beautiful spot. 

The light-house and the lion are the more immediate attrac- 
tions of Lucerne. The meaning of the name of the town is the 
" light-house," and there it stands in the middle of the river 
Reuss, which runs out of the lake, an ancient tower, with a 
peaked top, a relic of the olden time. In the days when Wil- 
liam Tell is alleged to have wandered about this lake aod per- 
formed his feats of valor and roused the Swiss to resistance 
against the Austrians, the archives of the town were kept in 
this strange, old, mid-river tower, and they have been kept 
there ever since, so that it is looked upon now with much the 
eaine reverence as we regard Independence Hall. Thorwaldseu's 



220 A HOLIDAY TOUR. 

lion is, however, probably the most noted attraction in Lucerne. 
In the rocky formations about the town there are not infrequently 
seen perpendicular walls of rock, that look as if they had been 
chiselled out, their faces are made so true. On one of these 
rocky faces is sculptured the famous lion of Lucerne, designed 
nearly sixty years ago by Thorwaldsen, to commemorate the 
valor of the Swiss Guards who were massacred in Paris in 1792, 
during the First Revolution. These troops were the guard of 
honor of the French King, and there were nearly eight hun- 
dred of them slain by the Commune. Their fate, with the 
names of the officers, is inscribed on the face of the rock, and 
above there has been cut out a massive lion twenty-eight feet 
long, dying from wounds, yet still protecting the shield of 
France, which he will not yield up. Thorwaldsen designed it, 
and a young Swiss sculptor carved it out of the solid rock, 
where it will probably stand to be admired for ages. A little 
fountain plays in front, and the carved images of wood and 
stone, reproducing the lion, are as numerous in the shops of Lu- 
cerne as the bears at Berne, or the cologne-bottles at Cologne. 
Lucerne bears every evidence of its ancient origin. Frescoes are 
painted on its bridges, and its church steeples are pointed, 
gradually tapering as they ascend until they seem to terminate 
in a point as sharp as a needle. Its ancient walls remain with 
their towers, and its great attractions enable it to thrive hand- 
somely on the fortune Nature has cast at its feet. 

LAKE LUCERNE. 

The Lake of the Four Cantons is celebrated as not only 
being superior to all others in Switzerland in beautiful scenery, 
but also in historical attractions, its banks having been the 
early cradle of the Swiss Republic and the home of Tell. It 
is bounded by the four famous cantons of Uri, Schwyz, Unter- 
wnlden, and Lucerne, and the mountain peaks surrounding it 
give it the form of a St. Andrew's cross, from which conies that 
cross on the Swiss flag. Lucerne stands at the head of the 
cross, Uri at the foot, and Alpnach and Kussnach at the ex- 
tremities of the arms. It may be imagined that such a lake 
formation when made by mountain peaks and ridges would 
give views of great magnificence, especially as through all the 
openings there is seen a broad expanse of water, and other 
peaks beyond. The giant guardians of the lake, Pilatus and 



LAKE LUCERNE. 221 

Rigi, stand, as it were, as the sentinels upon the outposts of 
the Alps, raising up their massive forms on the northern verge 
of the famous range, and looking out upon the comparatively 
level plain to the northward. As the lake proceeds southward 
peak after peak surrounds it, and the long L-shaped extension 
from the foot of the cross is gradually closed in by higher and 
higher mountains until it terminates at Fiuelen, the beginning 
of the St. Gothard Pass over the Alps. Steamboat routes run 
in all directions over this famous lake, for it is the Mecca of most 
Alpine tourists. Little Swiss cottages are dotted all along its 
edges, the homes of lovers of the beautiful who can afford to 
live here. Hundreds of thousands of all nations come here 
every year and enjoy the fresh air, the fine views, the cloud 
and storm and sunshine that are all seen to perfection in this 
elevated region, for the lake is about fifteen hundred feet above 
the sea, and discuss the problem which the lake and its neigh- 
borhood always suggests, — did Tell shoot the apple from his 
son's head ? One of the most magnificent scenes in nature is 
that selected by the Swiss for the building, near the water's 
edge, on the eastern border of the lake, of Tell's Chapel, erected 
in 1388, thirty-one years after his death, to commemorate his 
career. Here Tell leaped on shore from Gesler's boat, when 
being taken to prison, and escaped up the mountain, and dur- 
ing Easter-time this chapel is the scene of commemoration 
services by pilgrims from all parts of the country, who come 
in a picturesque procession of boats. Whether America be- 
lieves in Tell or not, the Swiss do. He is their Washington, 
and reverence for him is a national characteristic. At Zurich 
they have the very cross-bow with which he shot the apple, 
and they would probably have the apple too, had it not suc- 
cumbed to the laws of nature. The Swiss tolerate no doubters 
about Tell and his career. Sixty years ago it was boldly at- 
tempted by various skeptics at Berne to circulate a book which 
argued that the apple tradition was a myth, whereupon the 
people around this lake invoked the aid of the authorities, and 
the Four Cantons making formal complaint to the Government, 
all the copies of the book were collected and publicly burnt. 
The book perished forever, and no doubters have since dared 
raise their voices against Tell in Switzerland. 

19* 



222 A HOLIDAY TOUR. 



THE RIGI KULM. 

Every one lias a desire to go up a mountain, but few like 
to walk up-hill. Therefore, when a mountain comes across 
the traveller's path up which a railway runs, he naturally 
desires to «o up. So I went up the Rigi, over the famous 
Riggenbach cog-wheel railway, and, without unduly straining 
the muscles, was able to enjoy the charming view afforded. 
The Rigi and Pilatus, as I have already said, stand as sen- 
tinels on the northern verge of the Alps, looking out over the 
broad plain of Northern Europe. Both have been for years 
climbed by tourists, and both have hotels on top, but Rigi is 
the favorite, so much so, that eight hotels have been built on 
and near the summit, with accommodations for two thousand 
guests. Prior to 1870 over fifty thousand people climbed this 
mountain every summer to enjoy the view, for, although not a 
high summit, it has from its isolated position a magnificent 
prospect in every direction. It is the fashion to go up the 
Rigi in the afternoon, and crawl out of bed at daybreak to see 
the sun rise, the tourist being gratified by a reasonably good 
view of it about one day in the week, for the Rigi and the 
Alps, to the eastward, seem to be most prolific cloud manu- 
facturers early in the morning. But, as I have said, the 
people, awakened by the tooting of the Alpine horn, crawl 
out of their warm beds, whether it be cloudy or clear, and 
stand shivering on the summit in the cold winds of the early 
morning to see the sun rise. They are a motley crowd, 
dressed in their old clothes and wraps, and whatever comes 
handiest, some with bedclothes wrapped around them, though 
the hotel-keepers put up signs worded in very doubtful Eng- 
lish, forbidding " taking out of hotel bedclothing to see the 
rising sun ;" and with chattering teeth and shivering frame's 
they express admiration, and then crawl back to bed again. 
But when, once in a while, it is done right, the sunrise is a 
magnificent sight from the top of this mountain, — too magnifi- 
cent for me to find words to describe, it. Therefore, I quote 
the guide-book language of an enthusiastic Swiss, whose zeal 
sometimes affects his English : 

" The starlight night, far expanded and aromatic with the 
herbs of the Alps and the meadow-ground, now begins to 
assume a gray and hazy veil. A gentle breath of the morning 



THE RI01 KULM. 223 

air greets us from the rocky walls of the deep and brings con- 
fused noises from below. Then all at once a figure appears at 
first undefined and then with clearer outlines. Who can that 
be ? ' Tra-da-tra-da-dui-da.' It is the signal for all who did 
not like to ascend so high without beholding the sunrise. 
Then a curious bustling crowd begins to rush up to the sum- 
mit ; a variety of strange costumes is displayed. The air is 
biting sharp ; some are shivering, and, notwithstanding the 
charms of nature, cannot bring forth a single coherent word. 
Meanwhile the day breaks on bright and clear, a golden stripe 
getting broader and broader covers the mountains of St. Gall ; 
the peaks of snow change their colors, indifferently white at 
first, then yellowish, and at last they turn to a lovely pink. 
The new-born day illuminates them. Now, a general sus- 
pense ; one bright flash, and the first ray of the sun shoots 
forth. A loud and general ' ah !' bursts out. The public 
feels grateful, — it always feels grateful, be it a ray of the 
rising sun, or a rocket burnt off and dying away in the dis- 
tance with an illuminating tail of fire, — and after the reful- 
gent globe, giving life to our little planet, has fully risen, the 
crowd of people drop off one by one, some to crawl into their 
warm roosts again, some to write a long premeditated epistle, 
full of poetry, under the first impression of what they had 
seen, to send it to their friends at home from the summit of 
the Rigi, and some others to hasten to pack up and with a 
loud hurrah launch forth into the grand and splendid world 
of the Alps." 

The summit of Rigi is elevated about one mile above the 
lake, and the view very much resembles that from a balloon. 
You can see all around. To the north you look over the 
broad plain of the northern country, which comes down to 
the waters at your feet. There are Zurich and Basle far away. 
It is all laid out like a map, — villages, lakes, fields, roads, 
houses, — and the outline gradually fades away into the clouds 
much like the view over the ocean. There are the little Swiss 
cottages far down below, looking as if they had been taken out 
of the toy-boxes and set alongside the little streaks that repre- 
sent the roads. There are the little specks of trees on land, 
and the little specks of boats on the water, and an occasional 
steamboat, looking like a caterpillar crawling over the face of 
4he lake. This is the sweep from the west around to the east 



224 A HOLIDAY TOUR. 

on the northern side, a view over the land that is unexcelled 
anywhere. Here lies Lake Lucerne at your feet on the left, 
and Lake Zug on the right, with the little towns on the shore, 
and all set out like a chart. Facing to the south, the view is 
changed. It is a view far away over range after range of 
mountains, with no horizon limiting it, but a splendid amphi- 
theatre of snowy peaks. There are at least two hundred 
peaks raising up their heads, many of them snow-covered, and 
all presenting the roughest and most rugged landscape that 
can be imagined. There is water on this side, too, — part of 
Lake Lucerne, and two or three little, isolated sheets of water 
among the mountains that seem to have no outlet. But it is 
essentially a view of mountain peaks high above you, proudly 
rearing their heads above the clouds. There are the Jungfrau 
and the Wetterhorn, and the Spielhorn, and the cluster of 
grand snow-covered peaks of the Bernese Alps. They lift up 
their heads twice as high as you, but are seen so far away over 
the intervening lower peaks that you seem almost as high. 
This view is unspeakably grand. With the telescope, glacier 
after glacier can be traced out, and on some of the lower peaks 
little houses are seen that venturesome beings have built there 
for habitations. The Rigi summit, like the seashore, is scant 
of verdure. There are no trees there, but the grass is luxu- 
riant, and the small hairy Alpine cattle feed contentedly. Its 
view and its comforts far exceed those of Mount Washington, 
whilst the wind, though it blows hard, does not blow the great 
guns familiar on Mount Washington, for the buildings do not 
have to be anchored down. The clouds, too, whilst often un- 
propitious at sunrise on Rigi, generally break up and give clear 
views throughout the day, thus behaving much better than 
those on our bleak northern mountains. But we have not the 
genial climate of this region, and New England, therefore, 
cannot hope for all the glories of Switzerland. 

THE RIGI RAILWAY. 

The Rigi Railway is constructed on inclined planes, run- 
ning up both sides of the mountain. There are thus two 
railways running up to the summit, from Visnau on the west, 
and Arth on the east. Their greatest inclination is one in 
four. From Visnau, where the steamer takes visitors from 
Lucerne, the distance up the mountain is five miles, and this 



THE RIO I RAILWAY. 225 

route is accomplished in about eighty minutes. The railway 
is of ordinary gauge, and along the centre runs a cogged track, 
into which a cog-wheel on the locomotive works, thus giving 
the power for the ascent. The train does not go faster than 
a brisk walk, and the engine, which looks like a vertical steam- 
engine, such as is put on a crane-derrick, pushes a single car 
before it. The engine-boiler is inclined forward, so that when 
on a level it looks as if tumbling over, but when on the in- 
clined plane it stands vertically. The car will contain fifty 
people, and as they go up-hill the very curious optical illusion 
is presented of the trees, and houses, and telegraph-poles look- 
ing as if they were tumbling over. The passenger forgets he 
is on an incline, and his unpractised eye makes him believe 
everything else is. The houses actually seem to be toppling 
over, and not a tree grows straight. The sensation of rising 
is very much like the gradual upward motion of a balloon, 
excepting that the wheels grating along the cog-wheel track 
rather dispel the illusion of a separation from the ground. 
The Tailway line crosses several torrents, some of them at 
great heights. In one place it passes through a tunnel, about 
two hundred feet long, and then comes out on a curved bridge 
over a fissure five hundred feet deep, through the bottom of 
which a little stream runs. In another place it crosses over a 
waterfall. It goes up on the Lake Lucerne side, so that the 
lake is always seen, and to give the better view the seats are 
all arranged so that the passengers ride backward with the 
lake spreading out down below before them. As the car rises, 
one snowy peak after another comes up to view over the dis- 
tant rocky ridges, and the beautiful cross formed by the lake 
gradually unfolds. Here and there a solitary goat browses on 
the summit of a hill and raises his head to watch the slowly- 
passing car. The railway twists around corners of rock and 
runs through deep cuttings, but though it rises so high it no- 
where gives the frightful sensation that is made by running 
along the edge of a precipice. In fact, the engineers, in laying 
it out, seem to have avoided this whenever they could. At 
the five or six stations on the way up, the line is made com- 
paratively level, so that the car can be brought to a stop, and 
at the kulm or summit there are engine- and car-houses and a 
neat little station. There are ten engines used on the line, 
and several trains run each way daily. Whilst steam-power 



226 A HOLIDAY TOUR. 

is used in going up, the brakes in going down are worked by 
atmospheric pressure, and the engine goes before the car, 
there being no greater rate of speed attempted in going down 
than up. The construction of this five miles of line, which in 
its ascent overcomes about one mile of altitude, cost about 
three hundred thousand dollars, and it pays a very good in- 
terest on the investment. 

The ascent of the Rigi is about the easiest way of get- 
ting a mountain view, and the isolated situation of the peak 
rewards the observer with a better view than if he had toiled 
up higher ones. The higher Alps are so surrounded by 
mountains, that distant views seem almost impossible, whilst 
Rigi has the great advantage of land and water scenery all 
around it far below, of mountain views beyond, and a summit 
so situated that the observer can see all around. The hotels 
on top are some of them very large establishments, and they 
can be seen from afar off. There are little booths on the sum- 
mit where souvenirs and photographs are sold, whilst intel- 
ligent Swiss have very good mountain-telescopes mounted 
there, through which the views are excellent. The peak is 
far above the lower strata of the clouds, and one of the most 
interesting studies is to watch their formation and dissolution. 
The feathery cirrus clouds, however, those light and airy 
formations that scarcely make a shadow, were still far above 
us, and seemed to rise above all the peaks in the neighbor- 
hood, though below the snow-clad Alps beyond. The sight 
and its sensations taken altogether will be long remembered. 

The season on these Swiss lakes is much like our own 
watering-place season, beginning in July and ending in Sep- 
tember. It will soon taper off to a close, and the Alpine tourist 
will leave for more congenial climes. But it is still in the 
full tide of prosperity, and as I sit at my window on the 
border of the lake, with mountains dimly traceable in the 
darkness far away, the lights of the town dancing over the 
water, the music from the hotel bands floating in on the even- 
ing air, the scene is one that is most charming. Yet, with 
all its charms, I am reminded of home, for our September 
friend in Philadelphia — the mosquito — is wafted in at the 
window and mingles his music with that of the concert below, 
to remind poor humanity that, even on the delicious Lake of 
the Four Cantons, we are still subject to mortal ills. 



AN ALPINE PASS. 227 

LETTER XXXIX. 

AN ALPINE PASS. 

Giessbach, September 21. 
To cross an Alpine pass is the best way of getting an idea 
of Alpine scenery. Therefore I determined to cross the Brunig 
Pass, between Lake Lucerne and Lake Brienz, and chartering 
one of the curious carriages of this country that are built with 
two or three gig-tops, so that everybody can have a seat giving 
a front view, and having a driver with an immense Panama 
hat, and a long whip which he cracked every minute, we set 
out early in the morning. The route was along the bank of 
Lake Lucerne and around the foot of Mount Pilatus to Alp- 
nach. This part of the road was a dead level, along which 
the horses trotted briskly. We passed through the beautiful 
valleys bordering Lake Lucerne on this side, and finally en- 
tered the forests of magnificent timber that clothe the moun- 
tain-side. There were numerous timber slides passed which 
are used to shoot logs down the mountain to the edge of the 
water. The slide at Alpnach is famous for being eight miles 
long, and the logs shooting down attain a speed of a mile in a 
minute, and if they jump the track they break off the trunks 
of trees like pipe-stems. The road, which is as fine as the besi 
in Fairmount Park, and continues to be as fine throughout the 
entire pass, goes through frequent Swiss villages, where the 
steeple-clocks have but one hand, that pointing to the hour, 
and the houses are all shingled on the sides with miniature 
shingles, about four inches long and an inch and a half broad, 
rounded at the projecting ends, so that the walls look as if 
covered with scales like a fish. The saw-mills are numerous, 
but they are very old-fashioned, and the little mountain streams 
on which they stand all give evidence of being torrents that 
rage fiercely when the snows melt in the spring, though now 
they seemed only little rivulets in their broad stony beds. 
The crops in the fields were frequently varied by small patches 
of corn and tobacco, and all the inhabitants went about with 
baskets on their backs, slung fast to their shoulders. The 



228 A HOLIDAY TOUR. 

juvenile population also seemed to drive a brisk trade at sell- 
ing fruit, cakes, and milk to the passers-by, for this route is 
much travelled and the coaches are frequent. 

Having gone the entire length of Lake Lucerne the route 
passed up the valley beyond Alpnach, towards Lake Sarnen 
and along the bank of that lake. It still kept its level char- 
acter, though huge mountains enclosed it, and the road did not 
begin to rise until Lake Sarnen was left behind, when there 
was quite an ascent to the pretty little Lake Lungren. This 
lake nestles among high mountains and seems to have no visi- 
ble outlet, though a tunnel can finally be detected through 
which the surplus waters flow out. Its level formerly was 
much higher than now, but the inhabitants wanting land 
much more than water, opened this tunnel, by which they 
lowered the depth and thus reclaimed a large surface. At 
Lungren, where the mid-day halt was made, we were intro- 
duced at the inn to the Swiss National costumes, for all the 
servant-girls wore them. These costumes, which look so 
pretty in pictures, are seldom seen now in real life, but they 
are an additional attraction to an inn, and are, therefore, 
adopted. At this place the ascent of the Brunig Pass begins, 
and the road toils zigzag in and out, up the face of the moun- 
tain, around rocks and among the trees, making all sorts of 
circuits, and still going higher and higher, though apparently 
not making much progress, until it raises the traveller far 
above the valley and the lake, and gives a fine view of the 
mountains behind us. The day, which opened well, proved 
to be lowering, for the Alpine cloud -factory was briskly at 
work, and as we toiled up the hill, the clouds were seen rolling 
along the mountain-side above us. We finally went high 
enough to get into them, and enveloped in the thick fog, with 
everything saturated and dripping, and the clouds so surround- 
ing us that scarcely anything could be seen, we crossed the 
summit. Here at Brunig were several hotels, for it appears 
impossible to do anything without drinking in this country, 
but the cloud and fog made them look rather inhospitable, 
and after spending about twenty minutes crossing the flat sum- 
mit, the driver fastened a drag on his wheels and the descent 
began on the other side of the mountain. The road continued 
of excellent character and showed skilful engineering. In 
many places it was hewn out of the solid rock, and sometimes 



AN ALPINE WATERFALL. 229 

galleries had to be cut to provide a passage. Vast overhanging 
masses of rock threatened to fall upon the road, whilst the pre- 
cipice descended abruptly below to an abyss that could not be 
fathomed, the clouds were so thick beneath us. We had not 
gone far down the slope, however, before we got below the 
cloud line, and then, at a turn in the road, there burst upon 
the vision one of the finest views in Switzerland. The green 
valley of the Aar was stretched out at our feet, that stream 
flowing between the dykes that make its banks, like a canal, 
for the Swiss have embanked it throughout, so as to cultivate 
the valley, over which much of it formerly spread. For many 
miles each way this beautiful valley could be seen spread out 
far below, whilst away oif on the right was the Lake of Brienz, 
and opposite the massive wall of rock that seemed to rise up 
perpendicularly many thousand feet. On its surface three 
pretty waterfalls could be seen, one of them with its attendant 
cascades being at least two thousand feet long. The road 
wound down the mountain-side, and for an hour kept this 
magnificent panorama in full view, until we had got completely 
down to the bottom of the valley. Here the natives were 
found to be chiefly wood-carvers, and they swarmed along the 
road, offering carvings for sale, whilst nearly every house was 
a wood-carving warehouse. Brienz, which is an ancient town, 
though so well situated, is the centre of this trade, and from 
its quaint old houses, which seem to be stuffed full of wood- 
carvings of all kinds, they are exported to all parts of the 
world. Solemn goats also became numerous on this side of 
the mountain, there being large herds of them. In crossing 
the Pass the whole day had been consumed, and before the 
little steamboat had set us across Lake Brienz to Giessbach it 
was dark. 

AN ALPINE WATERFALL. 

A waterfall in a country like Switzerland is a great thing, 
for the mountains give it an excellent chance to make an ex- 
hibition. If Niagara's lot had been cast here, it would prob- 
ably have fallen several thousand feet and had cascades above 
and below, and generally improved its splendors. The Falls 
of Giessbach are a series of seven cascades descending thirteen 
hundred feet, and though they come out of the mountain 
where it rises up apparently almost perpendicularly from Lake 

20 



230 A HOLIDAY TOUR. 

Brienz, nature has been kind enough to put a small spot in 
front of them sufficiently level to build a hotel. This spot is 
about seven hundred feet above the lake on a mountain eight 
thousand feet high, which looks almost too abrupt and perpen- 
dicular for any one to attempt to climb it. But Swiss inge- 
nuity has carved a zigzag road out of the rock, and up this 
strange course the passengers go to the hotel. When the 
steamboat lands at a little ledge on the water's edge, in- 
stead of finding boisterous hackmen, you are pestered by a 
noisy crew of chair-carriers, and the traveller whose pedes- 
trianism is not well developed, goes up the seven hundred foot 
hill to the hotel door in a sedau-chair carried by two men. 
This is an unique hotel coach, but it is comfortable. The at- 
traction at Giessbach is the Falls, and the chief attraction of 
the Falls is at night, when they are illuminated. At half-past 
nine o'clock the ringing of a bell and the firing of rockets 
warn the visitors to be on the alert, and then the entire series 
of cascades is illuminated by Bengola lights, some behind the 
water in grottos, and the Falls are thus illuminated from top 
to bottom, making one of the grandest exhibitions it is pos- 
sible to produce. Foaming water, when illuminated, is always 
beautiful, and here we have a series of cascades, down which 
falls a large mass of foaming, bubbling, rushing water, lighted 
up with intense brilliancy in changing colors, and the effect is 
as novel as it is grand. It is worth trudging seven hundred feet 
up-hill to see, and its fame makes a profitable trade for a large 
hotel, where the waiters are all girls, clad in the picturesque 
costumes of the Canton Berne. The Falls do not at this sea- 
son have a very large amount of water, but they are so broken 
into cascades, and so well surrounded by shubbery, that the 
broken line of foam, bordered by dark-green foliage, is by 
daylight very beautiful. This fine exhibition is in full view 
from the hotel windows. The Niagara-like roar lulls you to 
sleep at night, and in the morning the free exhibition of 
Nature's handiwork is a solace whilst dressing. 

This region, a hotel perched on the mountain-side, the top 
of the mountain obscured by clouds and the foot washed by 
the pretty waters of a narrow lake far below, whilst fine to 
look at, is a dangerous one in which to venture out. There 
is every opportunity provided for making a first-class news- 
paper item by falling over the edge, and, whilst tempted to do 



AN ALPINE WATERFALL. 231 

it in the interest of our profession, I hesitated, because no 
brother journalist was at hand to properly record the event. 
To outward appearance this is an almost inaccessible region, 
yet, when once in it, the Swiss are found to develop an amaz- 
ing ability with their spiked staffs to scale the mountain-side, 
and during the night they clambered up the edges of the 
great cascade to fix their Bengola lights for the illumination, 
with a skill and daring that belongs only to mountain races. 
These people think nothing of walking an entire day over 
these mountains and carrying heavy burdens upon their backs, 
and the farther you penetrate into this rock-ribbed country 
the greater is the veneration for William Tell and the admira- 
tion for bears. The hotels are all named for one or the other. 
Finely-carved images of Tell shooting the apple off his son's 
head are set up in front of some of the inns, whilst the carv- 
ings, large and small, of bears, doing all sorts of things, and 
in all sorts of positions, and the fact that every inn that is not 
a " Gasthaus Tell' 1 is a " Hotel of the Bears," is a strong re- 
minder that we have got into Canton Berne, where hero- and 
bear-worship go hand-in-hand. In clambering about the rocky 
precipices that surround these pretty Giessbach cascades, we 
pass over the paths that are haunted by the chamois goat, and 
bis delicate horns and hoofs are worked into many a keepsake 
by aged goat-hunters who are too old to follow the chase, but 
not too old to turn an honest penny by keeping booths. These 
venerable natives, with flowing beards and goat-skin clothes, 
come out of the woods looking like veritable Kip Van Winkles, 
and sell their knick-knacks to the traveller. They tell grand 
tales of the chase as it was in days gone by, and they look out 
at the distant mountain-sides over the lake and point to places 
where once the goat-herds were numerous, but now there are 
none. We descend the precipitous mountain-side, and, with 
a farewell look at the tumbling waters of the succession of 
cascades, bid good-by to Giessbach, of which will be recalled 
many pleasant memories. 



232 A HOLIDAY TOUR. 

LETTER XL. 

AN ALPINE VALLEY. 

Interlacken, September 22. 

The last letter left me at the foot of the mountain at Giess- 
bach, after a visit to its pretty waterfall. Clambering down 
to the landing I embarked in a rowboat on Lake Brienz, and 
the " ash breeze" proving propitious was soon set over on the 
opposite shore to resume the journey in the gig-top carriage. 
The road ran along at the foot of the mountain, with a glorious 
view across the lake at the almost precipitous side of the op- 
posite mountain beyond. We drove for nearly three hours 
along the bank, across the beds of torrents that had been dyked 
in, but which evidently in the spring frequently overflowed 
their banks and brought avalanches of stones and debris down 
the mountain-side. The road went through the most primi- 
tive Swiss villages, thoroughly illustrating the race. Stones 
were piled on the house-tops to keep the shingles from blow- 
ing off, whilst the fronts of the houses were frequently re- 
markable for their wood-carvings. This being the country of 
the wood-sculptors, they plied their art not only in making 
little images and keepsakes, but also in beautifying the house- 
fronts, some of which showed great labor and skill. Through 
the windows the men could be seen, pipe in mouth, busily 
carving wooden images; and fence-posts, signs, and pretty 
much everything bore evidence of their trade. The country, 
however, gave some indications of poverty. The buildings 
were poor, and the people could get very little from the sparse 
vegetation, whilst wood-carving must be but a slight reliance 
for a fixed income. Every house had its little pile of hard 
wood, seasoning under the eaves, so as to be prepared for the 
knife. Saw-mills were frequent, but they had most primitive 
wheels, driven by the torrent streams. The goat looked down 
upon us from his perch, as we passed, but he seemed thin, and 
not to thrive well, probably because there was no waste paper 
to eat, and the flaxen-haired children paused in their work — 
for all, young as well as old, seem to work in this country — 



AN ALPINE VALLEY. 233 

to see us go by. As we approached Interlacken, the road con- 
tained frequent squads of people coming from that town. 
Families trudged along with the ever-present baskets on their 
backs, or else the men were drawing little hand-carts, in which 
pigs and children nestled, a happy family. Men would come 
leading cows and goats, their families following, the cows and 
goats showing the usual desire, bovine as well as human, to go 
the wrong way. After seeing much of this, especially the 
dragging of pigs in hand-carts along with the children, curi- 
osity prompted inquiry, and it was discovered that a great fair 
was going on at Interlacken, and these people had gone there 
for a frolic and to buy animals and were returning home. The 
road finally came out over the pretty valley between Lakes 
Brienz and Thun, through which runs the Aar connecting 
them, and after descending the hill we were soon in the 
famous town. 

Interlacken, as its name signifies, lies between the lakes. 
Imagine two ridges of precipitous mountains curving gradually 
around, running almost parallel for fifty miles, and rising six 
thousand feet high, with a depression about three miles wide 
between them, and an idea can be formed of this extraordinary 
region. To the east the depression contains the valley of the 
Aar ; then proceeding westward Lake Brienz, then the valley 
between the lakes, then Lake Thun, and far away to the west- 
ward the sunset can be seen in fine weather through the open- 
ing apparently at the end of the mountain ridges. It is a most 
massively grand exhibition of the upheaval that has made the 
Alps. At the centre is this town of hotels and boarding- 
houses, with a portion of very crooked streets and old build- 
ings, some of them seven hundred years old. The great 
attraction of Interlacken, however, is not the view either way 
along the valley, but the view through a depression in the 
mountains on the southern side. It is known as the " City 
of one View," but through this one view, when clouds permit, 
is plainly seen the Jungfrau and her attendant galaxy of noble 
Alpine peaks, covered with snow and rearing their heads far 
above the horizon. The fair was about ending when we 
reached Interlacken, but we saw enough of it to show that all 
the neighborhood had been in town in their Sunday clothes. 
Some of the women were dressed in the peasant's waists, velvet 
collars, and silver ornaments of the Canton Berne costume, 

20* 



234 A HOLIDAY TOUR. 

whilst the men came out in their butternut homespun, and 
looked very much like an ex-rebel regiment scattered through 
the streets. The wonderful part of their garb was the short- 
tailed coat, the counterpart of that frequently worn by the 
negro minstrel, in which the back buttons are between the 
shoulders, and the continuation below stops much too soon to 
satisfy the pautaloons, which latter were also as short propor- 
tionately as the coat. In this strange garb the Switzers 
lounged about the streets, bargaining for goats and cows and 
pigs, and smoking very bad cigars. But it gave an idea of 
human nature among the Alps, and was so accepted, for it was 
a curious exhibition, and one that few travellers see. 

ALPINE HOTELS. 

That we have got into a wood carving and fashioning coun- 
try is plainly shown in the hotels that have accommodated us 
during the past few days. Journeying southward through 
Germany we gradually came into the region of waxed and 
fancy wood floorings, the artistic character of the floors in- 
creasing as we have progressed into Switzerland, whilst the 
carpets have grown smaller and smaller so as to show the orna- 
mental borders. I am now writing in a bedroom the floor of 
which is a wood mosaic of great beauty, waxed until it is as 
slippery as glass. A small floor-cloth in the centre of the 
room, and a rug at the bedside, are the only covering. The 
joiner- work of the floor is as artistic as its design, and both 
testify the wonderful ability of the Swiss as wood-workers, 
though cold floors, as the mercury declines in these Alpine 
regions in the autumn, are anything but pleasant. Still sleep- 
ing under the feather bed instead of on it, the Swiss have the 
same rule as the Germans, but all the beds are single, and 
throughout the entire country most of the bedsteads are too 
short. How a six-foot Swiss stretches out in these short beds 
I cannot understand, for their meagre length sometimes com- 
pels me, who always march with the ponies, to sleep " bias." 
But otherwise the beds are all good, even though the bolsters 
are wonderful constructions of springs and coverings, made on 
the inclined-plane principle, while some of the bedsteads are so 
high that you have to use a chair to get into them. Travel 
is a wonderful seasoner of sleep, and after a day's duty at 
bight-seeing one is ready to sleep in any bed. 



ALPINE HOTELS. 235 

This is a great country for good hotels, the service, the food, 
and all the adjuncts being excellent, whilst the charges are not 
exorbitant. Instead of having the American rule of per diem 
charge, they have the universal European custom of charging 
each thing as a separate item, so that a couple of days' sojourn 
produces a bill of great length, if not of large amount. These 
hotels in Switzerland gratify the Americans by putting fresh 
drinking-water on the table at meal-time, instead of requiring, 
as in England and France, a special order for a drink of water, 
which is, after much trouble, grudgingly doled out in small 
quantities. Switzerland has so much water in the shape of 
ice and snow, clouds and rain, lakes and mountain streams, 
that it is cheaply furnished and very good. Even now the 
great cloud-factory in the Jungfrau is hard at work, and is 
pouring down free libations all around us. We, therefore, can- 
not see the great sight of Interlacken, the Virgin Mountain, 
leaning over, a white-hooded maiden, ever confessing to the 
attendant Monk standing by her side. Both of them, with the 
Wetterhorn and the hundred snow-clad peaks attending them, 
and covering about three hundred square miles just south of 
Interlacken with ice and snow, are hard at work to-day man- 
ufacturing the materials for a cold equinoctial storm, which is 
spreading all over Southwestern Europe. But to return to the 
hotels. They are usually very economical in the use of gas. 
They have it in the lower stories and in the public rooms, but 
the supply is generally very weak; whilst in the chambers 
candles only are furnished ; and the ever-present charge for 
" bougies" is found in every bill. They give you towels, but 
no soap ; this must be carried with you. It is easy to get into 
these hotels, but hard to get away without passing through the 
gauntlet of " tips," and " pour boires" ; but in two places, 
Lucerne and at Giessbach, the hotel proprietors have boldly 
braved the universal custom, and forbid the servants receiving 
" tips." They pay them wages, so that they do not have to 
depend on the dole from the traveller. Elsewhere, however, 
the system reigns in all its comprehensive splendor; the 
waiter, porter, luggage-carrier, boots, and omnibus-driver 
must always be " tipped" on leaving, and they do not forget 
to ask for it if the traveller overlooks them. These men are 
the best linguists in the country ; they can ask for money in 
every known tongue, whilst throughout these beautiful regions 



236 A HOLIDAY TOUR. 

small change is always at a premium. In the matter of decor- 
ation these hotels exceed those of America, They have mag- 
nificent halls, skylights, mirrors, and ornamental marble and 
wood-work, the same as we have ; whilst to it they add the 
most elaborate floral displays both inside and outside the 
house, extensive gardens, fountains, statuary, paintings, armo- 
rial ornaments, and everything that can please the eye. This 
appears to be the rule both in Germany and Switzerland. 
Whatever profit the landlords make seems to be largely de- 
voted to beautifying the hotels, and some of these are them- 
selves as great curiosities as the towns containing them can 
present. But by the time you have been a week going in 
and out of these grand caravanseries, every tendon in the 
limbs is sore from the extra effort necessary to keep upright 
on the slippery waxed and polished floors. 



LETTER XLI. 

THE BEARS OF BERNE. 

Lausanne, September 23. 
A great many years ago Berthold de Zahringen, of whose 
history you probably know as little as I do, travelled much in 
Switzerland, and coming to a certain point on the river Aar, 
where that very crooked stream makes a double turn around a 
flat-topped hill a hundred feet high, he killed a bear. Bears 
were plenty in that part of Switzerland, and Berthold founded 
a town there to commemorate the bear-killing, and he enjoined 
upon all the inhabitants to make friends with their ursine 
neighbors. As Berthold was a great duke the people obeyed his 
instructions, named their town and the surrounding country 
after the bears ; kept pet bears in the town ; set up images of 
bears on all sides, and for seven centuries have continued to 
thrive and to show their devotion to the Ursa Major. Baren 
is German for bears ; hence comes the name of the Canton 
Berne and the city of Berne. As we travel through the 
famous canton up to the city, the indications of popular bear- 
worship become more and more general, and when we get into 



THE BEARS OF BERNE. 237 

the town and stop at the " Hotel of the Bears," the earliest glance 
around shows plainly the genius ruling the place. It is bears 
in French, and bears in German, bears on coats of arms, bears 
as card-receivers and hitching-posts, bears as signs, bears on 
top of fountains and flag-stalls, bears on clock towers to strike 
the hours, and in one case, whenever the hour is struck, a 
solemn bear nods his head at every stroke, whilst the great 
Berthold sits by and opens his mouth and swings his sceptre, 
and a procession of other bears march around. In the baker- 
shops the youth's favorite gingerbread is made as a bear, with 
Bruin's presentiment stamped upon it. All the children's toys 
are bears of various sizes doing all sorts of things, — sitting on 
their haunches, walking on their hind legs, smoking pipes, 
playing billiards, nursing their cubs, wearing spectacles, and in 
all manner of grotesque positions. And, to complete the bear- 
worship for which Berne is so famous, there are a half-dozen 
bears kept at the public expense in two magnificent bear-pits, 
where the population go to pay obeisance and feed them. The 
old grandfather bear, whose venerable looks betoken his great 
age, still sits on his haunches and begs for bread, whilst a 
woman keeps a stand near by to kindly sell it to the inhabit- 
ants. As I looked upon this ancient idol of the town, — this 
veritable Ursa Major, — the Philadelphia Zoological Garden 
was recalled to mind, and I marvelled how the old bear could 
be content to live so long and yet in all these years not have 
tasted peanuts ! For many centuries these bears and their 
ancestors have been Berne idols. In 1798, when Napoleon de- 
spoiled almost all Europe of its most famous treasures to take 
to Paris, he carried thither the bears of Berne. They lived for 
several years in the Jardin des Plantes, but Berne was incon- 
solable, and when Napoleon was finally laid low the Swiss 
stipulated for the return of the bears, and they were brought 
back to happy Berne with great rejoicings. They look placid 
in the pits begging for bread, but it does not do for the visitor 
to throw himself as well as the bread over the balustrade. An 
English officer, by some mischance, fell in not long ago, and 
after a desperate struggle was torn to pieces. The people are 
proud of their idols, and prohibit, under severe penalties, 
throwing anything at them but fruit and bread. 



238 ^ HOLIDAY TOUR. 



OTHER THINGS IN BERNE. 



Whilst the bears are the chief curiosity of Berne, it is also 
noted for some other things. It, like most Swiss towus, is es- 
pecially devoted to those useful people, the washerwomen. The 
chief street, and in fact almost all the streets, have fountains 
set up at frequent intervals, from which spouts run a perpetual 
supply of water for their especial use, whilst near by perma- 
nent tubs and washboards are established, at which, during 
almost all hours, both day and night, the women can be seen 
washing clothes and vigorously pounding them with paddles. 
Berne thus publicly recognizes the virtue of cleanliness, and 
also runs down the centre of its chief street a great sunken 
gutter for the especial drainage of these fountains and tubs, 
over which sundry bears, knights, and curious statues are set 
as guardian augels. This is called in one portion Market Street, 
and it would be a novel sight in Philadelphia to see on our 
Market Street all the city's washerwomen (including the Chi- 
nese) distributed at their tubs along the middle of the street, 
talking scandal and beating a tattoo on their washclothes. This 
is one of the sights of Berne. 

The streets have no sidewalks in the older portion of Berne, 
but the ground-floors of the houses are made into arcades, 
along which people walk, whilst massive arches hold up the 
houses above. This makes a very strange-looking system of 
pillars and arches extending along the sides of the streets, 
while the old gateways and clock towers remain in the centres 
of the streets. The finest building of modern construction in 
Berne is the Federal Palace, where the Swiss National Coun- 
cil, or Congress, meets, Berne being the capital of the country. 
Unlike our Congress, however, which generally wants to be in 
session almost the whole year, the Swiss Congress is usually 
content with a single month's session in July, a moderation 
which is probably due to the fact that the debates are carried 
on in French, German, and Italian, and after three or four 
weeks the members get so mixed up that they find an early 
adjournment the best solution of the linguistic riddle. Berne 
was full of Swiss soldiers when I was there, as were also the 
trains coming into and going out of the city. They trudged 
about in immense top-boots, with rattling swords and a fero- 
cious look, and appeared and acted decidedly more warlike 



FROM THE RHINE WATERS TO THE RHONE. 239 

than any of the troops I have seen either in England, France, 
or Germany. This was probably due to the peculiarity of the 
Swiss situation. Its neutral necessities forbid fighting with 
anybody, but there is nothing like keeping up good business 
appearances. Berne's position, perched up on a bold hill, with 
the swift-flowing Aar washing it almost all around, is most 
beautiful, the window-gardens in the city also adding to the 
pretty appearance which smiling gardens and green vineyards 
enhance on all sides beyond the town. 

To get from Interlacken to Berne the journey is made along 
the Lake of Thun by steamer, and then by railway down the 
valley of the Aar. The lake, beginning among high moun- 
tains and the most rugged scenery, as the valley in which it 
lies gradually passes out of the Alps, becomes a quieter scene 
of smiling, highly-cultivated shores and pretty cottages. The 
broad valley of the Aar, after it flows out of the lake, is cul- 
tivated to the highest degree, the people having embanked the 
stream, so as to save as much land as possible. The little 
town of Thun is embosomed in the richest verdure, and the 
ride to Berne is through a rolling, highly-cultivated country, 
much like the farming land in the neighborhood of Philadel- 
phia. The Swiss have not much ground to cultivate, but what 
arable land they have is made the most of. In all the low- 
lands peat was being gathered and dried for fuel, being exten- 
sively used in this part of Switzerland. 

FROM THE RHINE WATERS TO THE RHONE. 

The Swiss railways charge low prices, but they manage to 
run the trains slower and waste more time at stations than 
any other railways in the world. They are among the crook- 
edest, too, and the hilly region through which they run com- 
pels steep grades, high viaducts, and frequent tunnels. The 
cars, they tell us, are American cars, and so they appear out- 
side ; but when you get inside, and see how they are fitted 
up, you repudiate any idea of their being American. They 
have the aisle down the middle, but that is all. They are 
divided into compartments, with partitions between and doors, 
and the seats are straight-backed and uncomfortable, and, 
being fixed, half the passengers always have to ride back- 
wards. The Swiss have built a car in which they attempt to 
combine both the American and English systems, and spoil 



210 A HOLIDAY TOUR 

both. The passenger, who is naturally disgusted at his dis- 
comfort, is told that it is an "American car"; but if he be an 
American, he makes haste to repudiate it on behalf of his 
countrymen. They have probably attempted to thus most 
incompletely imitate the American car out of compliment to 
the race who are the chief travellers in Switzerland. I am 
told by the hotel-keepers and railway people here that there 
are more American travellers in Switzerland than all other 
foreigners put together, and that were it not for the money 
left here by the Americans, the hotels, railways, storekeepers, 
livery-stable owners, and possibly the whole country, would be 
in danger of bankruptcy. As our nation, which contains the 
greatest travellers in the world and the most of them, is thus 
generous to Switzerland, the people here, in return, show us 
great friendliness. They overlook all mistakes in language so 
long as the cash is freely paid out, and iu one way or another 
a very large part of the Swiss population subsists upon the 
constant stream of gold and silver, amounting to many mil- 
lions in a year, which is geuerously poured out by the Ameri- 
can sight-seer. If the Swiss railways are crooked and the 
trains slow, the railway managers are careful. The passen- 
gers are penned up in the stations until almost the moment 
for starting the train, for fear they may get in the wrong cars, 
and then there is a rush for seats that equals anything in that 
line elsewhere. Then about every ten minutes, on an average, 
the conductor comes around to examine and punch tickets. 
Vv r ith stentorian lungs at all stations they call out the names 
and instructions what to do ; but as it is always done either by 
a German speaking French, or by a Frenchman speaking 
German, the American is about as wise as before the oration 
began. I have often listened at home to railway hands who 
call out the names of stations with a musical twang and a 
foreign pronunciation that no one can comprehend — and they 
do the same thing in Switzerland. Thus are new countries 
always reproducing the customs of the old. 

On one of these Swiss railways — rafter the rush for seats 
and the struggle with baggage and umbrellas that always 
persist in getting mixed up in car-seats when you are in a 
hurry and some one else similarly obstinate blocks the way — ■ 
I went from Berne to Lausanne. The line ran through a rich 
and rolling country, very much like what we see at home, from 




INTERIOR OF FREIBURG CATHEDRAL. 



FROM THE RHINE WATERS TO THE RHONE. 241 

Berne to Freyburg, where it crossed the Sarine River on a via- 
duct two hundred and fifty feet high, and proceeded up the 
valley of that beautiful stream. It was near here, at Lake 
Morat, four hundred years ago, that the Swiss defeated the 
unfortunate Charles the Bold, of Burgundy, and slew fifteen 
thousand of his troops, whose bones were gathered into one 
sepulchre, where they remained for centuries, until the Bur- 
gundians, desiring to efface the memory of the defeat, scat- 
tered them. Then, according to tradition, began a race at 
carrying off the bones. Every Burgundian passing the field 
patriotically took a bone home to bury in his own country, 
whilst every Swiss carried them off to carve into knife-handles 
or bears, the bleaching of years having given them a remark- 
able whiteness, causing them to be in great request. These 
Morat knife-handles are still sold, and are in good supply at 
high prices, — but several millions of these bones having here- 
tofore been disposed of, I did uot invest. A lime-tree stands 
near the field, thirty-six feet in circumference, under which 
the Swiss are said to have held their council of war before the 
battle. It is on a hill that overlooks the field. Another lime- 
tree at Freyburg bears even date with the battle, and is almost 
as large as this. A young soldier was sent to Freyburg to carry 
news of the victory. He ran so fast that he sank down ex- 
hausted on arrival, was only able to say the one word, 
" Victory !" and died. In his hand was a branch of the great 
lime-tree at Morat, and they planted it and it has grown to 
enormous size. Freyburg, which was also founded by Berthold 
de Zahriugen, has, over the Sarine, the greatest suspension 
bridge in Europe, — one hundred and eighty feet high and 
nine hundred feet long. Until the great suspension bridge at 
Cincinnati was built, it was the longest in the world. Freyburg 
also has aa ancient cathedral, in which there is a great organ, 
considered the finest in Europe, with sixty-seven stops and 
eighteen hundred pipes, some of them thirty-two feet long. 
The most curious feature of the town, however, is the line of 
demarcation between German and French Switzerland passing 
through it. The German is spoken on the northeast, and the 
French on the southwest side of this line, and all the way on 
as the railway runs towards the Lake of Geneva, the language 
spoken is French. The railway continues some distance along 
the Sarine, and then, leaving that river, abandons the water- 
l 21 



242 A HOLIDAY TOUR. 

courses flowing north to cross the watershed to those flowing 
south. Heavy grades, deep cuttings, and tunnels carry the 
line over the summit, and we leave the affluents of the Rhine, 
whose waters go to the North Sea, to pass over to those of 
the Rhone, flowing into the Mediterranean. A few minutes 
accomplishes the change ; the train passes into a tunnel, and 
on coming out we find ourselves almost on the edge of the 
Lake of Geneva, but elevated far above it, whilst away across 
on the other side rises the snow-capped peak of the Dent du 
Midi, nearly eleven thousand feet high. Then the railway 
runs along the tops of the hills, through vineyards and gar- 
dens, which gradually slope down to the lake, and as it passes 
on steadily comes down towards the shore, when it runs into 
the station at Lausanne, which famous watering-place has a 
situation of surpassing beauty. Here I sit in the garden 
where Voltaire often wrote, and where Gibbon composed much 
of his great history. For, whilst formerly their home, it has 
since been made the garden of a hotel, and it gives a view of 
grand attractions across the placid lake to the mountains be- 
yond. But here too I found, as so often on this journey, that 
the lessons of school had to be unlearned. No one knows the 
Lake of Geneva here, for they all call it Lake Leman, the name 
the Romans originally gave it. 



LETTER XLII. 

THE GRAND ALPINE FILTER. 

Geneva, September 25. 
The river Rhone collects the water that falls on the south 
side of the Jungfrau and her attendant peaks in the Bernese 
Oberland as the river Rhine collects the drainage of the north- 
ern slopes. Glaciers come down the deep furrows of the 
mountains on both sides. At the top they are accumulations 
of snow, at first soft and ductile, then, as it gradually slides 
down the fissure and is jostled and constrained by the impas- 
sable barriers of rocks that hedge it in, the glacier becomes 
more compact, compressed, and icy, and with slow progress, 



THE GRAND ALPINE FILTER. 243 

■with many a crack and groan and upheaval, it changes from 
a river of snow, fed by avalanches, to a river of ice. All the 
time it wastes by melting, the water going to the bottom, but 
equally all the while it is renewed by supplies of snow at the 
upper end. It bears all sorts of spoils on its surface, — rocks, 
stones, timber, mud, and debris of every description, and 
finally, at the point where it attains its greatest dimensions, 
the waste of the glacier begins to predominate over the supply, 
the spoils sink to the bottom, and it gradually resolves itself 
into water. Out of the dirty, shrivelled, and wrinkled remains 
or' the glacier there springs a torrent stream, which bounds 
merrily down the mountain-side, through gorges and over 
waterfalls, carrying with it mud and stones and all kinds of 
debris. This is the nature of the source of all the Alpine 
streams that flow from this famous chain towards all points of 
the compass, to feed all the seas that environ Europe. Scores 
of such torrents unite to form the river Rhone, which flows, 
a rapid stream, past Leuk, and Sion, and Martigny, and Bex, 
until it enters the Lake of Geneva. Above that entrance the 
Rhone is chiefly conspicuous for its dirty character, and for 
the spoils it bears in its turbid current. The falls at Fairmount 
in their time of greatest freshet do not carry down a worse 
coffee-colored liquid, full of all sorts of rubbish, than the 
Rhone, when swollen by floods, bears into the lake, which is 
practically a crescent-shaped widening of the river to a breadth 
of five to ten miles, for a distance of about fifty miles. The 
Rhone pours its muddy current into the lake to be purified as 
it passes through. The discolored liquid of the eastern end 
issues from the lake a delicious blue at Geneva, the water 
being the clearest I ever saw, so that the fish can be seen dis- 
porting far below, and the aquatic plants growing on the bot- 
tom can be distinctly traced. Thus is the famous Lake Leman, 
as they call it here, acting the part of an Alpine filter, and 
filling up its eastern end slowly, by the accumulation of mud 
and stones poured into it. The lake is about twelve hundred 
feet above the sea-level, and that is also its average depth ; 
but the drainage of its banks sends the Rhone out of the lake 
with three times as much water as it brings in. 

This famous lake begins among enormous snow-covered 
mountains at its eastern end, and gradually subsides to tamer 
Bcenery at the western end. The snow-capped Alps border 



244 A HOLIDAY TOUR. 

the entire southern bank ; but, as Geneva is approached, the 
range retires southward from the bank of the lake, and leaves 
only hills of twenty-live hundred to three thousand feet high 
near the shore, which little fellows are of no account in this 
region, being merely regarded as moderately rising ground, 
when Mont Blanc, looking like a long-backed, recumbent ele- 
phant covered with snow, rises behind them to the height of 
fifteen thousand seven hundred and thirty feet, the highest 
mountain in Europe. Mont Blanc is, from one end of the lake 
to the other, its southern sentinel, for, as the crescent curves, 
it leaves the mountain almost equi-distant from all points, — 
when the great Alpine cloud-factory permits you to see it, 
which has been seldom this autumn, much to the disgust of 
the hotel-keepers hereabout, who complain that their season is 
spoiled. But when it is seen its great long side stands up a 
snow-covered wall, its length preventing a proper appreciation 
of its height. Amid these mountains on one shore, and in 
full view of them on the opposite bank, stand many famous 
places, for the lake is a popular resort, and its vine-covered 
banks are dotted with cottages, boarding-houses, hotels, and 
many a building of renown. It is Savoy, in France, on the 
south side, and the Swiss cantons of Vaud and Valois on the 
north side. To recapitulate a few of the famous places on the 
lake, here is Coppet, where Madame De Stael lived and held 
her intellectual court, dying there in 1817 ; Nyon, founded 
by Julius Caesar ; Prangins, where Voltaire lived for two 
years ; Rolle, where General La Harpe, the tutor of the Em- 
peror Alexander of Russia, is buried, on a small island in the 
lake ; Aubonne, where the great traveller Ta vernier built his 
home, declaring it the place having the most enchanting view 
he had seen in all his voyages ; Morges, with its castle nine 
hundred years old, from which the Swiss quickly banished the 
First Napoleon when he landed there on a visit when a young 
lieutenant, thus early having an instinctive dread of the race; 
Ouchy and Lausanne, famous, the former as the place where 
Byron wrote the " Prisoner of Chillon," and the latter as the 
liome of Gibbon and Voltaire ; Vevay, the resort of invalids, 
the hotel landlords proving by any amount of statistics that 
people are longer-lived here than anywhere else on the globe ; 
Charens, of which both Rousseau and Byron have sung ; 
Montreux, another favorite resort for invalids ; the forbidding 



MUSIC AND THE LAUNDRY. 245 

Castle of Chillon, standing on a rock one hundred feet from 
the shore, where the prisoner Bonnivard was immured six 
years ; Evain, with its mineral springs, where the gamblers, 
driven from the German watering-places, are endeavoring to 
revive the public gaming, but with doubtful success; and 
finally Geneva. These places are all located on the shore, 
which extends not much over one hundred miles in length 
around the lake. 

Lausanne (which, like most of these Lake Geneva watering- 
places, is a city of hotels and boarding houses) was almost com- 
pleting its season when we left it, for the Swiss resorts are chiefly 
closed by October. The view of Mont Blanc and the other 
snow-capped mountains across the lake had been superb the 
previous day, but clouds and rain obscured them as we left the 
hotel on the hill and went down on an inclined-plane railway 
to Ouchy, to embark on the steamer. Here one of those kind 
individuals who is always dying in these countries and leaving 
his accumulated millions to the cities and towns for the public 
benefit, had established a beautiful garden, with an ample en- 
dowment for its maintenance, and in it we awaited the steamer. 
The storm and wind steadily increased, until the lake was 
lashed into an angry ocean, and the waves dashed high over 
the breakwater that protected the little port. We embarked, 
got treated worse by the fresh-water Neptune than we ever 
were by his salt-water brother, and the steamer took a lot of 
woe-begone sea-sick passengers into the breakwater that guards 
Geneva. But we had the satisfaction of knowing that all this 
row was kicked up by the beautiful Lake Leman, and feeling 
that it must be all right, were content. 

MUSIC AND THE LAUNDRY. 

There are only required a few hours in Geneva to convince 
one that the city is devoted to washerwomen, musical boxes, 
and watches. Mont Blanc and the Alps step down from the 
high pedestal, whilst the first duty of Lake Leman's beautiful 
blue water is to furnish a copious supply for the public wash- 
houses along its shores. At Geneva the lake narrows with 
swift current into the river Bhone, and is crossed by several 
bridges. Jean Jacques Rousseau's Island stands in mid- 
stream, and around and below it the swans and pretty ducks 
are kept, whilst on both shores the city stands, fronted by tht? 

21* 



246 A HOLIDAY TOUR. 

sheds floating on the water, where those useful people, the 
washerwomen, do their work. Whilst all Swiss towns provide 
for them, Geneva does it on probably the most extensive scale. 
You look out of the hotel window at Mont Blanc far away, the 
snow and clouds around its top, or the vine-clad hills nearer, 
and the city, with the beautiful blue water of the lake in front, 
or the island and the bridges and the swans, the little steamboats 
and fishing-craft that sail ; along and as a foil to the poetry the 
enchanting scene inspires, there are a hundred washerwomen 
right in the foreground, beating a tattoo on about the dirtiest 
lot of clothes that ever sought the laundry. And they are no 
slouches either, these nymphs who thus lave on the edges of 
the beautiful lake. They are up with the lark, and keep at it 
till dark. They use paddles and clubs to beat the dirt out, and 
put huge hand-scrubs on refractory cases, and slap the clouts 
around, and rinse out the water with heavy rolliug-pins, till 
you sigh to think of the crop of buttons that must go floating 
down the Rhone, to be gathered up by the future geologist in 
the Mediterranean. Thus they keep at it winter and summer, 
making a racket almost like a kettle-drum corps, in beating the 
clothes, and teaching all the hotel guests how the thing is dor.e. 
Geneva has from time immemorial thus honored its most useful 
citizens, who untaxed and untrammelled publicly teach and 
execute cleanliness on beautiful Lake Leman. It thinks far 
more of this than Alpine scenery, whether its visitors do or 
don't. 

The Genevans who do not engage in the laundry business, 
chiefly manufacture watches and musical boxes. There are 
clocks and watches of all kinds and styles exhibited by the 
acre, but the Swiss watch-maker is in sore dread of his Ameri- 
can competitor, and is sorrowing because one of the chief 
markets is thus gradually closing against Swiss wares. But in 
musical boxes Geneva takes the front rank. When the hotel 
is entered you hear them playing on all sides, even in the 
elevator, and the automatic singing birds chirp out their pretty 
songs among the flowers that decorate the dinner-table. The 
city is full of large manufactories of these boxes, and the 
reader will miss nothing by coming with me a few moments 
into one of them. You enter and shut the door behind you, 
and it strikes up a tune ; you sit down in a chair and it plays 
the " Marseillaise" ; a footstool is pushed to you, and the 



MUSIC AND THE LAUNDRY. 247 

moment the foot is upon it, it starts up " Coming Thro' the 
Rye." If thirsty, the water-pitcher that you lift and the 
glass you drink from both play tunes. You look at pretty 
work-boxes and jewel-caskets, and, on opening the lids, some 
will start music, whilst out of others jump little birds to carol 
their lays. A complete orchestra of monkeys, with most 
amusing gyrations, play the Swiss favorite airs, whilst if you 
take a cigar, the cigar-case opens to music ; and the clock 
cannot strike without giving an opera overture. Music is 
concealed in everything around, and a hundred pretty minia- 
ture Swiss cottages stand on the shelves, to discourse music 
if started. The ingenuity of the Swiss in thus putting music 
into everything is remarkable, and they are also wonderfully 
proficient in the manufacture of the more elaborate boxes, 
with harp, drum, bells, flutes, and sometimes full orchestra 
accompaniments. 

The Duke of Brunswick, another of those kind people to 
whom I have referred, has recently died and bequeathed 
Geneva a fortune of five millions of dollars, and the happy 
people are putting up a monument in his memory alongside 
my hotel. It is to be two huudred feet high, and will take 
a long time to complete. It will be visible many miles along 
the lake, and be another of the many attractions of this 
beautiful city. It was in Geneva that John Calvin lived 
many years, and John Knox came here when exiled from 
Britain. Relics of both are frequently shown. Geneva also 
has memories of Voltaire, but seems most to cherish those 
of Rousseau. Whilst famous for her history, ancient and 
modern, for it was here the Alabama Claims Commission made 
the fifteen million five hundred thousand dollars award against 
England, I must not forget to mention, among other Genevan 
characteristics, her chimney-pots. In other parts of the world 
the builder of the chimney-pot, no matter how numerous or 
how strange looking they may be, is content to have them 
stand upright, but Geneva, whilst imitating every other chim- 
ney-pot absurdity elsewhere invented, adds the additional 
grotesqueness of having them all bent and twisted at angles. 
Millions of them seem to be thrust out on top of the houses, 
and they are all intoxicated, — all apparently falling over in 
different directions, making the most ridiculously absurd 
chimney-pot exhibition that can be conceived of. But the 



248 A HOLIDAY TOUR. 

town has redeeming qualities, and one of its most charming 
spots is Jean Jacques Rousseau's Island, a most lovely little 
place in the mid-river just where the lake pours out its torrent 
into the Rhone. Here, watching the swans, and the clouds, 
and Mont Blanc, the people love to sit and sip their wine and 
beer, dispensed at a conveniently-located restaurant, whereto 
the proprietor thinks he is alluring the American visitor by 
displaying a sign announcing that he can successfully concoct 
that well-known American drink, which his sign describes as 
a " sherry-gobler." 



LETTER XLIIL 

GOING INTO THE ALPS. 



Chamounix, September 27. 
Amid clouds and rain, and with the mercury almost down to 
the freezing-point, we started early in the morning from Ge- 
neva to pay a visit to that exalted curiosity, the King of the 
Alps, Mont Blanc, — or, in English, the " White Mountain." 
It has heretofore been noticed that the highest mountains of 
the world are always called the " White Mountains" or the 
" Snow Mountains." As the highest mountains are always 
snow-covered, they therefore appear white, and the earliest 
lookers at them naturally named them according to their color, 
so that, if we trace out their names in the various languages, 
they are always found to be, when translated into English, the 
synonyme for " white" or for " snow," whether those names 
be given in Savoy, or India, or Thibet, or Africa, or America ; 
whether it be the White Mountains of New England, or Cota-' 
paxi in the Andes, or the Sierra Nevada, or the Himalayas, or 
Mont Blanc, or other distinct mountains or ranges. Having 
thus properly introduced the white-topped monster of Savoy, 
who has probably been studied and visited the most of all the 
famous mountains of the world, I will go on to describe the 
journey we made to see him, in another of those gig-topped 
carriages, with three horses driven abreast, with which this 
celebrated but very hilly region abounds. We huddled together 
closely, for the air was keen and the north wind came sweeping 



GOING INTO THE ALPS. 249 

down Lake Leman, but we were told the rain would soon cease 
for better weather was indicated by the unfailing- barometer 
the lake afforded. As a lighter atmospheric pressure indicates 
a storm, so a heavier pressure presages its cessation, and the 
lake acts just like a barometer. Its surface will rise and fall 
sometimes as much as five feet in a brief period, this being 
caused entirely by changes in atmospheric pressure. So the 
Genevans, in a rain-storm, by looking out of their windows at 
the current in the Rhone running out of the lake, can imme- 
diately tell a heavier pressure by the swifter running of the 
water ; and so it was when we started, they foretold a cessa- 
tion of rain, and the rain ceased within two hours, though the 
clouds hung about all day. 

We started, drove over the bridge across the Rhone, and 
passed through the portion of Geneva which rejoices in possess- 
ing the three streets — Hell, Purgatory, and Paradise. If you 
are in Purgatory, you turn round the corner at one end into 
Hell, and at the other into Paradise. We did not stop in either, 
and only had time to notice that a woe-begone lot of draggled 
people were in all three places. Our driver cracked his whip 
and chirruped the horses, and each merrily jingling a long 
string of sleigh-bells they briskly trotted along, showering mud 
on all behind them. Every animal carries a bell in this country. 
The horses all have bells ; also the goats, and also the cows, 
and no properly-regulated Alpine cow is satisfied with the very 
modest bell that suffices in our country. They carry bells of 
the largest size, — some big enough for church-bells, and most 
of them large enough for a steamboat. Thus we went briskly 
and noisily along the road towards Chamounix, the driver 
cracking his whip and making a great row whenever we passed 
through a village, in order to duly impress the gaping inhabit- 
ants, and get all the idle dogs to bark after us, aud in a short 
time we were out of Switzerland and crossed the frontier of 
France into Savoy. There was no Custom-House examination^ 
this region of the High Alps being exempted, and we had not 
left Geneva long before we crossed the Menage River on a high 
bridge, and were at once introduced to picturesque seeuery. 
The road then sought the valley of the swift-flowing Arve, and 
followed this stream all the way up to the foot of Mont Blanc. 
It was one of the greatest rides that any one could take, for it 
passed through scenery that gradually changed from a bread 

L* 



250 A HOLIDAY TOUR. 

and fertile valley to a mountain gorge, or canon, where tremen- 
dous precipices were far above, and abysses far below, and the 
rugged mountain-sides poured out their torrents of water, 
mud, and stones, until they divested the valley of almost all 
chance of fertility. Yet through all this inhospitable region 
there was constructed one of the best roads in Europe, a wagon 
way everywhere at least twenty feet wide, solidly built, with 
a smooth surface as good as any in Fairmount Park, curbed 
and thoroughly drained, and with gradients easy enough for 
a railroad. It was a triumph of engineering, the most of it 
having been made by Napoleon III., and it was of the costliest 
description, for miles of it have had to be blasted out of the 
solid rock or supported on walls sometimes fifty feet high. Its 
bridges were all solid stone structures, and it followed the river 
up, sometimes on one side and sometimes on the other, as the 
best opportunity for construction was afforded, until it brought 
us to the Valley of Chamounix. As we progressed the moun- 
tains became higher, and their sides more precipitous. Some- 
times we passed around bends in the gorge that were like 
tremendous amphitheatres ; sometimes through fissures that 
looked as if an earthquake had rent them solely to let the 
torrent stream and the road pass through. Waterfalls fre- 
quently shot over the mountain-side, and sent rushing torrents 
under us and into the Arve. One of these, the cascade of 
Arpenaz, said to be the highest waterfall in Savoy, comes down 
a fissure in a mountain nine thousand feet high, shoots over 
a projecting precipice, and falls so far that it is entirely dissi- 
pated into spray ; then collects again on rocks a thousand feet 
below, becomes a tumbling series of little cascades, and finally 
hurls itself into the Arve. Other falls jump over the rocks, 
bury themselves in subterranean passages, and finally come out 
again as bubbling fountains far below. Every torrent is bor- 
dered by the vast accumulations of stones and debris which it 
brings down in spring-time freshets and scatters far and wide. 
They all have to be given broad beds, for when the snow melts 
fast in the spring they carry all before them. The Arve was 
filled with huge boulders, and had along it many snagged trees, 
the relics of the last freshet, and it, even now in its gentler 
mood, swept down the valley with a roar like a young Niagara. 
All the way the road went it gradually mounted an ascent till 
it passed around a sharp point of rocks, went through a tun- 



CHAMOUNIX AND MONT BLANC. 251 

nel, and in the midst of snow-covered mountains and glaciers 
gradually resolving themselves into torrents, it passed through 
a tremendous gorge, and brought us into the Valley of Clia- 
mounix, which is elevated eighteen hundred feet above Geneva, 
and three thousand feet above the sea. Here, with snow- 
capped mountains all around, and in a place which, before the 
great road was made, few travellers visited, we alighted after ten 
hours' brisk riding, with fresh relays of horses, and passed the 
night. 

CFAMOUNIX AND MONT BLANC. 

Chamounix is the goal of the Alpine traveller. It brings 
him face to face with JVJont Blanc, surrounds him with snow 
and ice, reduces his temperature, gives him plenty of clouds 
and dampness, and depletes his purse in fees for guides and 
mules. The whole world around Chamounix is set on edge, 
and every visitor is expected to climb over the top of it. The 
more fatiguing the expedition taken the more he has to pay 
for it. For sixty to one hundred dollars you can have the 
privilege of climbing up Mont Blanc at the risk of your life, 
and after getting tired enough to require a month to rest, have 
your name spelt wrong in the official list of the "Ascension- 
nistes en Mont Blanc" one of the most sadly-printed books I 
ever saw, and the English names in which, judging by the 
way they are misspelled, seem to have been set up by an 
Italian in the French language. For a less sum you can take 
a less risk, and may be less tired. The people at the hotels 
here talk only of Alpine ascensions ; of going up Mont Blanc 
to get an appetite for breakfast ; of tramping over glaciers 
and scaling rocks ; of skipping with light hearts (by the aid 
of the omnipresent Alpine stick) over little hillocks eight 
thousand feet high ; of riding forty miles a day on a mule ; 
and similar feats. To walk on level ground is undignified, 
they all prefer going up-hill. And so they jabber away iu 
Anglicized French in the sitting-room as they gather around 
the fire these cold nights, and tell of what somebody else said 
he did yesterday, and what they expect themselves to do to- 
morrow. Chamounix is a town of hotels and boarding-houses, 
all with grand views, for look where you will, there are snow- 
capped mountains and glaciers, — but it has not yet been 
reached by the railway, though one could be easily constructed 



252 A HOLIDAY TOUR. 

along the magnificent road with the easy gradients that brought 
us from Geneva, and perhaps will some day, for nowhere else 
than in this secluded vale, away up in the xVlps, can a better 
idea be got of snow-covered mountains. Chamounix gets its 
name from the Latin words " champs munis" or " fortified 
grounds," alluding to its strong mountain defences ; but the 
residents prefer to derive the name from the chamois goat 
which flourishes on its mountain-sides, and it gets its fame 
from Mont Blanc, which rises fifteen thousand seven hundred 
and thirty feet high on its southern edge. One hundred and 
forty years ago adventurous scientists began to visit and study 
its glaciers, but it was not until 1786 that Balmat aud Dr. 
Paccard made the first ascension, and 1787 that De Saussure 
made his ascension with Colonel Baufroy. The first lady — 
Mile. Paradis — ascended the mountain in 1809, whilst the 
first Americans — Messrs. Howard and Rensselaer — ascended 
in 1819. On the 6th of September, 1870, three persons, two 
of them Americans, attempted the ascension, with three 
guides, and all perished. Now the ascensions average fifty a 
year, aud are considered safe to make, though very fatiguing 
and occupying two or three days. The first day the visitor 
goes to the huts of the Grand Mulets ; the second, he starts 
at midnight and goes to the summit in time to see the sun 
rise, aud then he descends on the second and third days, un- 
less he is robust enough to compress the fatigue into one day. 
The view from the Valley of Chamounix is of most extraor- 
dinary description. It is a deep, narrow valley, with a slight 
curve, bordered by tremendous precipices, snow-covered at the 
tops, and rising to the height of nine thousand to ten thou- 
sand feet on the north side, and much higher on the south. 
Oat of the snowy tops are thrust the bare, jagged, pointed 
rocks, that are the higher Alpine peaks, generally bare of 
snow, because they are too steep for it to stay on them, and 
looking like blunt-pointed needles, which leads the people here 
to call almost all of them by that name. Great fissures are 
rent in their sides, down which come glaciers, or the dry beds 
of spring-time torrents. Below the snow verdure covers them, 
gradually changing from grass to bushes and trees as the 
mountain is descended. At the bottom of the valley is a fiat 
fertile surface, which is carefully cultivated, but it forms but 
a small portion, and is frequently crossed by great stony 



GOING UP THE ALPS. 253 

morains, whose torrent beds run into the Arve. There are 
a few villages here, of which Charnounix is the chief, but 
it would be of very little size were it not for the hotels and 
boarding-houses. In fact, almost the entire subsistence of 
the people in this nearly-desolate valley is upon the stranger. 
Visitors come to see the sights, and the people earn a sub- 
sistence by serving them as guides, chair-carriers, muleteers, 
coach-drivers, and hotel-servants. Mont Blanc and the gla- 
ciers, and the snow-capped hundreds of mountain-tops around, 
bring Charnounix its wealth ; yet the people, like many else- 
where, are unsatisfied with this, and are endeavoring to get for 
their valley a reputation because it contains mineral springs. 
How strange some people are ! This valley is unknown abroad 
excepting as a mountain vale, yet its people want to make it 
a bathing-place for invalids, and cover the hotel rooms with 
placards that describe it, in very queerly-worded English, as a 
prospective Baden or Saratoga. A great bath it can never be, 
but the chief resort for getting glorious mountain views it will 
probably remain as long as human beiugs love sight-seeing. 

GOING UP THE ALPS. 

On the morning of Thursday, September 26, 1878, there 
was seen solemnly inarching out of Charnounix, with the un- 
dersigned bringing up the rear, a procession of seven donkeys, 
in single file. It might have been doubted which were the 
donkeys, the quadrupeds who did the marching, or the bipeds 
who rode them, but, judging from the remarks of some of the 
bipeds, they had no doubt on the subject. There were three 
ladies, two little childreu, and two men, with four guides lead- 
ing the animals, a necessary precaution because the latter un- 
derstood only French, and all the American " get-ups" and 
" whoas" that were uttered, no matter how vigorously pro- 
nounced, were entirely lost upon these long-eared beasts, that 
had only been educated in the polite and diplomatic language 
of the Court of Versailles. It was a picturesque party, with 
heads muffled in shawls, stockings drawn over shoes, and wear- 
ing ancient clothing, and those who had never been on mule- 
back before carried it by a large majority. The procession 
started amid clouds and unpromising weather, and slowly 
wound around among the little fields and stunted bushes of 
the valley, until it reached a zigzag path up the mountain* 

22 



254 A HOLIDAY TOUR. 

side. Then up the narrow, stony, crooked bridle-path it 
mounted to scale the Alps. Gradually, as each angle in the 
road was turned, the procession was raised above the valley 
towards the clouds that obscured the mountain-tops, and be- 
fore very long it entered the clouds whilst still toiling up the 
ascent. Then nothing could be seen, though far below the 
roar of the rushing Arve could be heard, and also the twang- 
ing of at least one thousand cow-bells, for those useful animals 
were feeding all down the mountain-side and in the valley, 
each with a boy or girl watching it, as no cow pastures in this 
mountain region uncared for. Everything was dripping with 
moisture, and everybody was very cold, but they nobly toiled 
up the ascent in search of the unseen heights above. Yawn- 
ing precipices opened alongside the narrow path down which 
a misstep would have thrown us to destruction, but the beasts, 
whilst not pretty to look at, were sure-footed, and if they did 
try once in a while to rub off their awkward riders against a 
stone, or stopped short, whenever they felt like it, regardless 
of the torrent of orders given them in the strongest American 
language, the offence was pardoned for the safety they insured. 
The guides would beat them, and cry " Vit !" and " Allee !" 
which is horse-talk in French, but the beasts knew they were 
masters of the situation and went along as it suited them, 
finally bringing the procession up to the region of snow. Then 
the clouds thinned above us, and we knew we were getting 
above them, and, finally, the sun burst out in all his radiance, 
for two hours' zigzag ascent of the mountain had raised us 
above the clouds, and there thrusting out their jagged heads 
in all directions around us were the peaks of the Alps, snow 
covered where the rocks were not too steep to hold it, whilst 
all below was encompassed in clouds. Still we toiled up the 
ascent, and the view became grander and grander, until having 
reached the top with the sun pouring his hottest rays upon us, 
we saw a sight which it was worth travelling four thousand 
miles from America to see. In every direction were thrust 
up the rocky peaks, pointed and needle-like, which mark the 
highest Alps. Snow lay in every fissure. There was no sign 
of vegetation. In scores of places glaciers flowed down, making 
those amazing rivers of ice, which look like a sea in a storm 
suddenly stilled and frozen, and snow then powdered over it 
to smooth the rougher edges. There was nothing in view but 



GOING UP THE ALPS. 255 

peaks and sdow above and around us, and clouds below. But 
the sun's rays finally prevailed over the clouds, and, dissipating 
them, gave a view of all that was below ; of the mountain- 
side that we had ascended, rocky and snowy at the top, grad- 
ually changing to trees and verdure below ; of the great glaciers 
coming down enormous fissures in the mountain, and then 
uniting into the grand Sea of Ice, which flows slowly down 
the inclined plane between two mountains, cracking, groaning, 
and melting, until it resolves itself into the seething torrent 
that courses down to the valley far below to swell the Arve. 
The valley could be traced, its stream like a silver streak, its 
villages like spots amid the green, its course curving grandly 
around far away on either hand, amid two magnificent rows 
of snow-capped mountains, with Mont Blanc guarding it on 
the south and sending many a silvery glacier into it. The 
snow, which had fallen copiously during the early morning, 
was melting, so that it was damp underfoot and everything 
seemed to be resolving itself into running water. But we 
cared little for that. We had mounted many thousand feet 
until we had gone far above the clouds and the snow line, and 
there amid peaks twelve thousand to over fifteen thousand feet 
high, we were enjoying what all travellers agree is the greatest 
mountain view the world affords. 

But we could not stay there forever, and, as the day waned, 
we must come down again, and here we learned additional ex- 
perience. Going up-hill on a strange mule is one thing, going 
down is another. The beast is probably as sure-footed one 
way as the other, but the rider, as he thinks he is about 
pitching over the animal's head, don't always think so. Two 
minutes' mule-riding down the Alps made us forget all about 
grand views, glaciers, and glory. The beast has a fashion of 
raising his stern when going down-hill, — that is, to say the 
least, exciting, and the deeper the yawning abyss before you, 
the more sudden seems the rise. Then he has no regard 
whatever for the rider's legs, but goeth where he listeth, heed- 
less of the jagged rocks protruding almost across the path 
that threaten to sweep the rider off. It was useless to talk to 
him, for he knew not the strange tongue, and whether threat 
or caress, the effect was the same. The guides understood no 
better than the beasts. When the animal threatened to throw 
you ^out s& ^ °.n thousand feet down the mountain-side, your 



256 A HOLIDAY TOUR. 

eloquent remarks on the subject were entirely lost on both. 
The mule ahead never seemed to go fast enough to keep out 
of the way, and the mule in the rear was always running 
against you. It is hardly necessary to say these electrifying 
experiences of the devious, narrow, and very dangerous moun- 
tain-path soon drove all the cold out of the entire party and 
put every one in a profuse perspiration. But all things come 
to an end in this world, and the hours of zigzag winding down 
the mountain-side, all the time in full view of and almost over 
the town, ultimately brought us to it. There was a thankful 
party arrived from the journey, and when we looked back up 
the steep, the top was again obscured in clouds. But we had 
scaled the Alps, seen their greatest view, triumphed over the 
mules, and were happy. 



LETTER XLIV. 

AN ALPINE NEGOTIATION. 

Gexeva, September 30. 
Although Chamounix is a magnificent place, and displays 
the glory of the Alps in the highest degree, it is not a very 
comfortable region in which to spend the winter, and as the 
mercury persisted in going below the freezing-point, we were 
admonished after some days that it was time to leave. But 
leaving this remote place is involved in some difficulty, for it is 
far away from any railway, and carriages have to be taken for 
the purpose. We could have retraced the route to Geneva, 
but preferred if possible to go another way, yet the only other 
ways offered were routes over the mountains to Martigny, 
which stands on the Rhone away up the valley beyond the 
head of Lake Geneva. There are two such routes, one avail- 
able only for mules, and the other for a peculiar style of open 
wagon they have at Chamounix, built very narrow and light. 
We had had enough, however, of donkey exhibitions, for all 
hands were sore from their experiences in that line, so we 
selected the wagon-route, known as the " Pass of the Tete 
Noire," and began to negotiate for wagons. The people of the 



AN ALPINE NEGOTIATION. 257 

United States always have a profound sense of their own supe- 
rior business abilities, and they will be glad to hear that in this 
negotiation it was demonstrated to the fullest extent. The 
tariff of prices set up in the hotel, which it was declared was 
never deviated from, required the payment of one hundred and 
fifty francs for two wagons, which were necessary for carrying 
the party, and it was signed in bold characters by the chief of 
the Association of Wagoners of Chamounix. This tariif was 
duly conned over and inquired about, and we were assured 
that it could not be broken or the price cheapened. But we 
had come from America, where in some localities there is a 
fashion of making laws that are not always enforced, and, 
having an idea that Savoy might have learned the same thing, 
inquiries were begun outside. A day's negotiation led to the 
most wonderful results. The Trade Society of Wagoners 
could nt>t lower their prices, but there appeared a man who 
thought, if Monsieur made it an object, that he could find 
some one who would. So he soon discovered a Swiss who 
proposed to do the work for less money. There appears to be 
an enmity between the Swiss and the Chamounix Savoyard, 
and this cheapening being announced, the Chamounix society, 
having got a new light on the subject, thought they might do 
better. Each side abused the other's wagons and drivers, as 
they gradually came down in prices. The bidding was spirited, 
and the one hundred and fifty francs were lowered to eighty 
francs, and the Swiss still held the field. This had gone on 
the best part of the day, and seemed to be the chief subject of 
discussion among the townsfolk, when just at dusk new nego- 
tiators appeared offering even lower prices, and finally a com- 
mittee waited upon us, consisting of the leading men of the 
Association, with the chief at their head, whose authorization 
was affixed to the tariff. They appeared, hats in hand, and 
said the Chamounix people were poor ; that the Swiss came 
up there from Geneva and tried to take away their occupation 
from them ; that they loved America ; and finally, what was 
more essential, that they were very anxious to serve us, to vin- 
dicate their society, and would gladly do the work for sixty 
francs, promising their best wagons and best drivers. We 
closed the bargain, and Savoy triumphed. They gave us good 
wagons and good drivers, and after we went over the horrible 
road, with its fearful hills, we were sure the job would have 

22* 



258 A HOLIDAY TOUR. 

been cheap at thrice the money, and that the horse makes a 
mistake when he is born in Switzerland or in Savoy. 

THE " MAUVAIS PAS." 

We started soon after daylight on a cold, clear, frosty morn- 
ing. Mont Blanc and all of the two grand ranks of snow- 
covered mountains that enclose the famous valley were clearly 
visible. The glaciers glistened and the hoar-frost whitened 
everything. The town was all astir, for the negotiation had 
excited the people, and they gave us a royal send-off in honor 
of the victory over the Swiss. The chief assisted us into the 
wagons, and the men and women all along the road, as we 
quickly trotted out of the town, bade us God-speed. It was 
the first time ever I knew hackmen to be so much more 
delighted at taking less. We were pleased too, as they were, 
though it was very cold, and Jack Frost made the ears and 
toes tingle. Yet cold as we were, there were women and 
children out in the little cultivated patches of ground, some 
of them barefooted, digging potatoes, and the entire valley 
was resonant with cow-bells, as all the animals were being 
driven to pasture, each with its tremendous bell and its guar- 
dian, the latter often being women who carried babies, or 
knitted as they trudged along. The road passed eastward up 
the valley, with the swift-rushing Arve coursing along, first 
on one side and then on the other. It was a narrow, winding 
way, originally intended only for a mule-path, and all along 
huge stone-piles were placed on one side, intended as buoys to 
mark the route when the valley is covered with snow. We 
passed the Mer de Glace (Sea of Ice) with a magnificent view, 
and the little stream into which this great glacier resolves 
itself, came rushing, through a vast morain of debris, down to 
our feet. Then we toiled up a tremendous hill, and came in 
full view of the mountain known as the Silver Needle, which 
sends down another great glacier, and getting gradually into a 
ravine which led away from the Arve, we mounted up a height 
of five thousand feet, and crossed the- summit of the mountaiu 
pass known as the Montets. This was one of the wildest and 
most desolate regions I ever saw. Nobody lived there ; nothing 
grew but stunted grass and moss ; there was scarcely a tree 
or bush to be seen, but the whole place was covered with huge 
boulders dropped about indiscriminately, and some of them as 



THE "MAUVAIS PAS." 259 

large as a three-story house. Even the cows and floats which 
we saw almost everywhere else avoided this inhospitable region, 
around which barren rocks kept guard, running up to the 
snow-covered mountains, whose rocky, bare peaks stood out 
against the sky. It was a tremendous hill to climb, but the 
Chuiuounix horses were used to the work. The men all 
walked, thus lightening the load. Having crossed the sum- 
mit, the head of the Eau Noire, or Blackwater, appeared, and 
we began descending on that side, to go around the dark and 
repulsive mountain that gives its name to the pass, the Tete 
Noire, or the Black Head. Rocks and desolation reigned on 
this side, but the road was dowh-hiil, and that was a satisfac- 
tion, though it brought us deeper and deeper into the dark 
and narrow valley. Here to comfort us wa3 a monument 
erected to a French nobleman, some time ago overwhelmed 
in this pass by an avalanche. Down through the savage and 
barren region we jolted at a brisk pace, because the Swiss and 
Savoyard horses always trot down-hill, as it is the only chance 
they have to trot at all, but the road was frequently a break- 
neck one, narrow, filled with stones, and as uncomfortable to 
ride on as some of our Philadelphia cobble-stone streets. Di- 
rectly an occasional hut appeared, and then a cow or two was 
seen hunting for herbage, and afterwards we passed some little 
sad-looking villages, with miserable houses, and a most poverty- 
stricken appearance. Getting finally to the bottom, we passed 
the pretty cascade of Barberine, and just beyond it crossed the 
boundary between France and Switzerland, marked by a square 
stone at the roadside. There was no custom-house, for there 
did not appear enough vegetation in the whole valley to sup- 
port a revenue officer. Then we left the Blackwater, and 
gradually toiling up the side of the Black Head Mountain, 
mounted towards the terrible looking gorge which gives this 
route the name of the " Mauvais Pas," or the Bad Pass. 
Here, at a small inn by the roadside, we stopped to refresh 
the horses. From the front door you looked up thousands of 
feet to the mountain-top, whilst from the back door a stone 
would drop a thousand feet into the torrent below. At this 
inn were a half-dozen of those famous St. Bernard dogs that 
do such good service in these Swiss passes in times of 
snow. They were large, good-looking, and hungry, and, very 
much like dogs at home, gathered around the table to pic-k 



260 A HOLIDAY TOUR. 

up scraps. For a hundred francs I could have bought a little 
fellow four weeks old, that the landlady was anxious to sell, as 
she had enough St.' Bernard boarders already. 

After the rest we started again, and found that the route 
diverged into two gorges, one going off through the Trient, 
and the other, which we took, turning suddenly to the right 
between two mountains. This was the worst portion of this 
very bad pass. The narrow, devious road, more fit for mules 
than wagons, and on which there was only occasional room for 
two wagons to pass, toiled up-hill again, being hewn out of 
the rocky side of an abyss, the bottom of which, far down be- 
low, was filled with boulders, snagged trees, and all sorts of 
rubbish brought down by the torrent. Up we toiled through 
the narrow defile, occasionally peeping over the edge, or drop- 
ping a stone, whose fall was so far off we could not hear it, 
and this was unanimously voted about the worst-looking region 
that Nature could possibly invent. There was not a redeem- 
ing feature, and scarcely a foothold for the road, excepting 
what was artificial. But we got through it safely, though 
sometimes with bated breath, and, coming out, saw in full 
view in front of us the glacier of Trient, flowing down the 
mountain-side, which forms the torrent that runs through the 
bottom of the defile. The mountain stood up in front of us 
like a wall, but away up in a little indentation was a hut. We 
asked if men could possibly live in such a place. The answer, 
laughingly given, was that they could, and that we would see 
how they lived there, for that hut stood on the summit of the 
Forclaz, the mountain that we must go over, and that the road 
led to the hut. We were astonished, but submissive ; in fact, 
were willing to go anywhere to get away from the miserable 
region we had just passed through. Then the road began to 
ascend, zigzag, roundabout, turning and twisting, up the al- 
most perpendicular side of the hill. It was a hill of hills ; a 
most exhausting drag up, but we did it ; got to the hut on 
the summit ; found it a little inn, and then were rewarded 
with a magnificent view. On one side of the narrow ridge on 
which we stood was the deep valley and the terrible defile 
through which we had passed, with all the Mont Blanc range 
of Alps behind it. Walking a few feet to the other side was 
seen the Valley of the Rhone, the two great mountains guard- 
ing the head of Lake Leman, and the Jungfrau and the Ber- 



MARTIGNY. 261 

nese Alps far away behind them. The horses rested a few 
minutes and then started down-hill again, for the road zig- 
zagged down that side in the same fashion as it zigzagged up 
on the other. There was Martigny, almost beneath us, look- 
ing so near, though far below, that you could almost throw a 
stone and hit the little church spire. We trotted briskly 
down-hill, sometimes in imminent danger of rolling over a 
precipice ; sometimes through woods and bushes ; sometimes 
on so narrow a ledge that there was scarcely room for the 
wagon ; and the farther we went, though still down, down, 
the more distant seemed the town. Occasionally a cow dis- 
puted the road with us, and there was as much trouble getting 
her out of the way as there usually is with a cow on a rail- 
road. We jolted over stones and went around sharp angles, 
all holding on tight, and the wagon-brake fixed firmly. It was 
one of the worst rides that any one could take, and after two 
hours of it down-hill, with every bone bruised sore, we at 
length got to Martigny, which had seemed from the summit 
to be so near ; and near it was, so far as horizontal measure- 
ment went, but perpendicularly it was a great way off. After 
a nine hours' ride we turned into the great St. Bernard road, 
and the horses trotted merrily into the town. They had ac- 
complished the worst day's work they could be put to, and we 
had ridden through the worst pass in Europe. 

MARTIGNY. 

Martigny is not a very attractive town in itself, but it stands 
in a magnificent position. Snow is all around, also high 
mountains and the most terrific-looking rocks and gorges, yet 
the valley in which it stands, like most of the Swiss valleys, 
has a level, fertile surface, bordering the swift-flowing, muddy 
Rhone, and is highly cultivated. Up on the hill side, several 
hundred feet above the town, stands the ancient castle of La 
Batiaz, built six hundred years ago by Peter of Savoy, and 
its dark-gray, round tower, over which floats the red cross of 
Switzerland, commands a view of the three deep, narrow val- 
leys that diverge from Martigny, that from La Forolaz, down 
which we had come over the mountain from Chamounix ; that 
along which the Rhone flows from the Simplon ; and. turning 
a right angle, that by which the Rhone flows on to Lake Le- 
man. In the centre of the town there is a little £,rove of 



262 A HOLIDAY TOUR. 

trees, in which is set up a modest graystone monument where 
two roads diverge. This little monument marks the point 
where two roads of world-wide fame start to cross the Alps. 
On one side it bears the word " Simplon," and on the other 
" St. Bernard." The famous Pass of the Simplon, constructed 
by Napoleon as a military road, begins at this little monument, 
and starting at right angles from it is the road over the othr>r 
famous pass, the Great St. Bernard. Both are fine roads, 
toiling up the Alps by devious ways, and across their top in 
the lowest available places, and down again on the other side 
into Italy. Martigny's chief business seemed to be to furnish 
guides and carriages for these passes, and for that to Chamou- 
nix. It is a sad-looking, sprawling village, scattered in bits 
about the valley, with generally poor houses, and with a great 
number of cases of goitre visible among the inhabitants, this 
disease being prevalent in Switzerland, and particularly so at 
Martigny, owing to the swampy laud near there. The Rhone 
tumbles through the town in a bed about eighty feet wide, 
and comes from the great glacier away up near the Pass of 
the Simplon, for it drains all the Alps in that direction, and 
receives many a little torrent on its way down, and then it 
courses on through the valley to the lake. Martigny's only 
events are the occasional arrival and departure of railway 
trains and wagons; it subsists on the passing traveller; its 
mornings are sonorous with out-going aud its evenings with 
in-coming cow-bells ; and so it will probably continue till tho 
Alps engulf it, or till the end of time. 

TURNING HOMEWARD. 

Martigny was the farthest point from home of our tour, 
and from here begins the backward journey, for the American 
Line steamer is to take us home on October 16, and there is 
not time for any farther wanderings across the Alps into Italy. 
So, after several days of Alpine jolting, we again took the 
comfortable railway to get out of the cold and cheerless region 
into a more favorable climate. We went down the Valley of 
the Bhone, which flows through gorges that seem to be rent 
for its special passages, among enormous snow-covered moun- 
tains, and we passed a dozen waterfalls, the chief being the 
celebrated Pissevache, which is a magnificent cascade of the 
height of Niagara, though not so wide. A copious stream 



TURNING HOMEWARD. 263 

pours out of the mountain, and tumbles, a perfect waterfall, 
into the valley below, and then rushes a torrent into the 
Rhone. Some of the formations along the sides of this re- 
markable valley are like those of the Havana and Watkins 
Glens, well known to your readers, where the water has been 
boiling around like a pot for ages, has made both circular and 
square formations, and has then been let down and has all run 
away, so as to disclose these strange, but massive, workings in 
the rocks. As we pass down the valley two enormous snow- 
covered mountains guard it on either hand, and appear to come 
together in front and bar the passage. On the left is the Dent 
du Midi, and on the right the Dent de Morcles, each over 
ten thousand feet high. In the German Alps all the peaks 
were called " horns" ; at Chamounix, in France, they were all 
" needles" ; and here among the Italian Swiss they are all 
" teeth." These mountain peaks have resemblances to all 
three. The two " teeth" of which I have spoken, however, 
do not entirely close the valley. There is in one place just 
room for the river torrent to rush through ; whilst over it the 
high road passes on a bridge, having a buttress resting on each 
mountain ; and there not being room for the railway, it takes 
to a tunnel. Above this comes out the romantic Gorge du 
Trient, the other end of which was passed on the road from 
Chamounix to Martigny. It looks so tall, so narrow, and so 
deep, that it seems as if some Titan had chopped it out of the 
roek by a single blow of a massive axe. Away up on the 
mountain-sides were houses clinging to the rocks, making one 
wonder how people ever get up to them, and even there, at the 
risk of their lives, men and women were cultivating little 
patches of soil. All along these places there is in the spring 
and early summer constant risk of avalanches, and they tell 
of terrible disasters that have in this way occurred. 

The Rhone flows into Lake Leman, and the railway passes 
out of the valley to run along the edge of the narrow lake. 
The train stops at the stations and the passengers get in and 
out, and as the new-comer lifts his hat, you think, returning 
the salutation, how very polite these Italian-Swiss are. But 
the new-comer sits down and, after the requisite preparation, 
lights up probably the most villainous pipe in all Switzerland, 
and your opinion is changed. The rule on these railways is 
to smoke everywhere excepting where it is expressly forbidden. 



264 A HOLIDAY TOUR. 

thus reversing the American system. The railway runs all 
the way from one end of the lake to the other, and on its 
route passes the famous Castle of Chillon, where Byron's 
" prisoner" was immured. It is not far from the head of the 
lake, and Bonnivard's imprisonment does not seem to have 
much shortened his life, for he lived after his release until he 
was seventy-five. The Castle is a thousand years old. but its 
present form dates back six hundred years. It is a light-gray 
aggregation of a half-dozen square and round towers, coming 
up apparently out of the water, for it is built on a low rock 
near the shore. It does not look very inviting, and must have 
been a vile prison. It is now used as an arsenal, and over the 
entrance the Swiss have written " God bless all who come in 
and go out." The railway runs through an almost constant 
succession of vineyards as the lake gradually widens, and 
away across the water can be seen the snow-covered mountains 
with Mont Blanc's flattened top crowning the range. Thus 
through the vines, on a genial September day, the lake, as we 
passed, gradually changing its color to a delicious blue, we 
rode back to Geneva. The windows were open, the sunshine 
warm and the air balmy, — a most remarkable change from the 
Arctic experiences we had had such a short time before. 



LETTER XLV. 

JOURNEYING DOWN THE RHONE. 

Lyons, October 1. 
The city of Geneva is so surrounded by mountains that 
railways have some difficulty in getting out. There are only 
two available routes, and these require much costly construc- 
tion. The road from Geneva to Paris, therefore, is by either 
a roundabout one, for the railway in one case has to go south- 
west down the Valley of the Rhone, and in the other north- 
east along the edge of the lake until an opportunity is offered 
near Lausanne to climb the hills. Both routes at first lead 
away from Paris, yet one or other must be taken to get to 
that city. We started down the Bhone so as to go to Paris 



JOURNEYING DOWN THE RHONE. 265 

by the way of Lyons. The railway kept closely to the river- 
bank, for it was the only means of getting through the enor- 
mous hills of which the whole country in that neighborhood 
seems to be made. On one side of the river were the spurs 
of the Alps, and on the other the mountains of Jura. The 
river ran in foaming torrents deep down in the narrow valley, 
whilst the railway was constructed on ledges in the rocks 
away up on the mountain-side, winding about among the hills, 
which projected in great knobs, making the course of the 
Rhone very crooked, running through frequent tunnels, and 
out over high viaducts that led the line far up above little 
boiling cascades that came down from the hills. The whole 
formation of this strange region was a series of vast rocky 
amphitheatres, each opening by narrow gateways into the 
other, with evidences, such as are seen at Watkins Glen, 
that at some time the water had been penned up in them and 
had been boiling around, fashioning out a succession of huge 
cauldrons. Thus the line coursed down the Rhone, giving 
magnificent scenery to look at, and quickly taking us out of 
Switzerland and into France. The frontier is about as plainly 
marked as a national boundary can be. Chancy, the frontier 
town of Switzerland, is passed, and beyond it two mountains 
rise up almost closing the way, the river having evidently 
burst a passage between them, as it had done in a dozen other 
places above and below. These mountains guard the entrance 
to France, Mont Vouache standing on the Savoy side and 
Mont Credo on the other, the outermost peak of the Juras. 
The river runs through a wild and narrow gorge ; the almost 
perpendicular sides of the mountains bar out the sunlight; 
and on the frowning sides of Mont Credo is fashioned the 
great fortress of Ecluse, formerly facing both Switzerland and 
Italy, but now, since Savoy has become part of France, it 
guards only against Switzerland, and has, therefore, lost much 
of its importance. It is, however, a great fortress, thoroughly 
commanding the pass and all its approaches, with its batteries 
terraced up the hill-side, and is considered one of the chief 
strongholds in Europe. The railway, having got into this 
wild and difficult region, must get out some way, so it makes 
a drive right under Mont Credo, passing through a tunnel 
two and a half miles long, which was three years construct- 
ing, and cost one million five hundred thousand dollars. This 
m 23 



266 A HOLIDAY TOUR. 

overcomes the chief obstruction of the Jura range, but a half- 
dozen other tunnels are also necessary to pierce the mountain 
spurs, and then the train arrives at Bellegarde, the French 
frontier town, where the Custom-House is located. 

Here the passengers and their baggage are all turned out of 
the train and marched into the customs office. In solemn pro- 
cession, bags and bundles in hand, they proceed, in single file, 
through one door after another guarded by fierce-looking 
French soldiers, and are asked questions which they don't 
understand. This frontier has the reputation of being very 
closely watched, and probably it is. It is the only place where 
I have been that I was asked to show a passport. I had none, 
and found that it made no difference. " I am an American," 
was the cabalistic phrase that passed me through. They had 
no fear of Americans plotting for the capture of the fortress 
of Mont Credo. Then I moved on with the procession and 
laid down the travel-stained bags on the counter where the 
customs officers examined the baggage. In front of me was a 
laboring man, in a smock frock. He had a bundle slung on 
his back, — they carry everything tied on their backs here, even 
their umbrellas. It consisted of a piece of rough cloth in 
which a whetstone was wrapped, and a pair of aged boots. 
The official seized the bundle aud made a speech over it, un- 
wrapped the whetstone, held the boots up to the light, shook 
them, looked into them, got into a dispute and almost into a 
fight with the man. But nothing came out of the boots, and 
finally each one was chalked on the sole, to indicate that they 
were passed. My heart sank within me as the fierce-looking 
official, dressed like a field-marshal, with his sword ready to 
leap from the scabbard, turned from his contest with the boots 
to frown upon me. I was not too much scared, however, not 
to be able to gasp out the great word " American." He heard 
it, and the influence was magical. " What is this ?" he asked 
in the politest French, taking hold of a bundle, the prominent 
object in which was my veteran overcoat, that has survived 
four winters. " American old clothes," I answered in the 
purest English. He chalked the bundle, and turned to a 
travelling-bag, which he gently pressed with his finger. I 
prepared fur unstrapping it, but the moment I said " American 
dirty clothes" he deterred me, chalked the bag and all the 
others I had, made a polite bow, and then dived into an im- 



THE LYONNAISE. 267 

mense trunk, which a German alongside of me owned, and 
tried to get at something in the bottom. The word " Ameri- 
can" accomplished it all, and I passed thus easily through one 
of the strictest Custom-Houses in Europe without unfastening 
a strap or exhibiting a passport. After the half-hour these 
ceremonies required, the journey was resumed, and the train 
for hours passed through the wildest scenery as the line curved 
in and out of the valleys and gorges of the Juras. At Culoz 
diverged the branch line which goes through the Mont Cenis 
tunnel into Italy ; at Amberien, the main line which goes 
thence through Macon and Dijon to Paris ; and then, the 
country quickly subsiding into a level plain, strangely con- 
trasting with the mountainous character of the earlier journey, 
we coursed quickly over a prairie to the Rhone again and were 
at Lyons. We passed inside the fortifications, went almost 
entirely around the buildings, and alighted in the famous city 
which stands above the confluence of the Rhone and the 
Saone, and is the centre of the silk, satin, and velvet trades of 
France. 

THE LYONNAISE. 

The city of Lyons gives pronounced evidence of the silk 
manufacture, for in the chief streets are seen the offices of the 
silk merchants and manufacturers, whilst the banks have signs 
displayed indicating that they make advances on silks ; but 
you are disappointed in the shops. It was naturally to be 
expected that in this centre of the trade the shops would 
make attractive displays of silks, satins, and velvets, but they 
do not. In fact, the city, whilst having many shops, has very 
few large ones. The streets are, therefore, in this respect, dis- 
appointing. At the Paris Exposition you see in the combined 
exhibition made by the silk houses of Lyons, probably the 
grandest display of silks of all degrees and of silk manufac- 
tures that has ever been got together, but you see nothing of 
the kind in Lyons. The signs tell you the silk is here, but 
you see very little of it. This is caused by the nature of the 
trade. There are no great silk-factories. The manufacturer 
gives out the raw silk thread to the workman, and it is taken 
to the little apartment where he has his loom, and lives fre- 
quently in noisome quarters with his family, and when he has 
woven the piece he takes it back to the manufacturer and re- 



268 A HOLIDAY TOUR. 

ceives his wages. There is no such thing as a silk-factory in 
Lyons, such as we know a cotton- or woollen-mill at home, or 
Belfast knows a linen-factory. Outside of the city, and a 
great distance off, there are steam-mills with power -looms that 
make the inferior qualities of silk, but all the best goods are 
made on hand-looms and in the way I have indicated. This 
prevents seeing a silk-factory, and as the manufacturers each 
usually make but one quality of fabric, and sell it through com- 
mission houses, this prevents seeing any varied display of silk. 
Lyons has great cotton- and woollen-factories, for which it is 
not famous, and whose chimneys pour out so much smoke that 
a fog seems usually to lower over the city, but to make silk, 
for which it is famous, it has no factory apparent to the eye. 
You can go and see the single worker manipulating his loom ; 
can, if you choose, enter his generally repulsive home, where 
loom, children, dogs, cats, and silk are huddled together ; but 
this is all. Yet Lyons is the centre of an enormous trade in 
these fabrics, getting tribute from all the country round, re- 
ceiving the raw silk thread ; sending away the silk cloth ; 
governing the silk and velvet fabrics and fashions of the 
world ; and having the prices controlled and the trade ruled 
by an association of makers governing their rates by the usual 
discount-cards current in trade associations in America. You 
come to Lyons to see the silk-trade, but have to imagine it 
more than you can see it. 

The city looks like a sort of miniature Paris, and is much 
smaller, probably one-eighth the size. Its buildings and build- 
ing-stone resemble the Parisian construction, whilst the two 
rivers running parallel to each other, with their quays and 
bridges, are in appearance essentially Parisian. It is the 
chief manufacturing city of France, and the second in size 
and population. The Romans founded it a great while ago, 
and Roman remains, in the form of stone walls and broken 
arches, are frequent. . Excepting to the westward, where the 
heights of Fourviere rise abruptly from the Saone, the city is 
flat. From these heights there is a grand view over the whole 
city, with the two rivers passing through it to their confluence 
below the town, and away off" to the Jura Mountains towards 
the northeast, and Mont Blanc one hundred miles away to the 
southeast. I could distinctly see the snowy tops of Mont 
Blanc and its range, glistening in the sunlight. On the top 



THE LYONNAISE. 269 

of this magnificent hill a fine new church is being built to the 
patron saint of the city, whilst her old Church of " Notre 
Dame de Fourviere" stands alongside, the constant Mecca of 
praying devotees, who invoke her assistance, and put lighted 
candles all around, whilst, if cured or aided, they show their 
thankfulness by hanging little votive pictures or embroideries 
on the walls. Hundreds of candles burned around the altars, 
and thousands of offerings were on the walls, — some indicating 
safety from shipwreck, sickness, or other peril ; others aid when 
in despair ; and similar assistance. It was a strange collection, 
the picture, if it could, displaying the peril, whilst the em- 
broidery told of the hope, the prayer, and the assistance. This 
church and the high hill on which it stands are inclosed by a 
fort which is a sort of citadel for the powerful defensive works 
surrounding the city. 

The city of Lyons, though it could not show me the silk 
manufacture, could display some other things. It is the most 
radically Red Republican city of France, owing to the large 
numbers of silk-weavers and workmen. Here the Commune 
raged in 1793 even worse than in Paris, and rivers of blood 
ran down the Rhone from the butchered people, the frenzy 
finally resulting in the almost entire destruction of the city. 
The most Radical deputies have always been sent to the French 
Assembly by the Lyonnaise. When the Germans besieged 
Paris, and the Empire collapsed, and Grambetta went out of 
the beleagured city in a balloon to raise succor elsewhere, he 
quickly visited Lyons. Here the Prefect of the Rhone, to 
keep the weavers from boiling over, fixes the price of bread 
bi-monthly, thus controlling the bakers ; and his proclamation 
for the first half of October now adorns the walls, declaring 
that ordinary bread shall be sold at bakers' shops for forty 
centimes the kilogramme, and in the markets for thirty-seven 
centimes, prices which correspond respectively to about four 
and three and two-fifths cents per pound. In his proclama- 
tion the price of flour is also fixed, at about forty francs per 
one hundred kilogrammes, which would correspond to about 
eight dollars per barrel. When we came into Lyons on Sun- 
day the stores were open and the streets full of people. They 
were having an election for the French Assembly for a Deputy 
to succeed one who died. All the French elections are held on 
Sunday. This election resulted very much like some elections 

23* 



270 A HOLIDAY TOUR. 

do in America, — both sides, according to their own story, won, 
and the day after there were universal demands for a second 
election, which, under certain circumstances, the French law 
permits. I do not know whether I understood the matter 
correctly, but there seem to have been four candidates. Citizen 
Milleron was set up by the "Central Committee of Radical 
Republicans." Citizen Chavanne was also set up by the same 
committee. (I quote their placards.) But M. Chavanne' s 
supporters declared that there were sixty members of the com- 
mittee, and that seven of these " with audacious impudence 
usurped the title of the committee" and set up his competitor. 
The third candidate was Citizen Habenack, whose placard de- 
clared he wanted to go to the Assembly to fight the Jesuits. 
'• The Jesuits hope that you will not select Habenack," it said, 
" and they will then cry, ' Lyons recoils !' Lyonnaise, recoil 
you never ! Then vote for Habenack, and war on the Jesuits." 
This placard was signed by the " Independent Committee of 
Radical Republicans." The fourth candidate was Citizen J. 
Castenier, also supported by an " Independent Committee of 
Radical Republicans," who commended him on account of his 
services in advancing the industrial interests of the city, and 
who quoted sundry very respectable people as his supporters. 
The election was held ; Habenack, in spite of his " war on the 
Jesuits," and Castenier, notwithstanding his respectability, 
coming out at the tail, whilst neither of the others seem to 
have been elected. The Lyonnaise appear to know all that 
we do about election counting, and the streets, the day after, 
bristled with placards charging fraud and demanding a second 
eleetion. Citizen Chavanne declared the result was returned 
for his opponent, when he was elected, getting five hundred 
and forty-seven votes to five hundred and sixteen for his oppo- 
nent. Citizen Milleron declared he had five hundred aud forty 
votes, and his opponent but five hundred and thirty-three. 
The counters, it seems, disagreed, and one precinct was a hot- 
bed of discovered fraud, showing that Lyons knows how to 
conduct elections as well as some other places. Yet all the 
eleetion-bills close with "Vive la Republique!" in bold letters, 
and invoke the patriotism of the voter as we do at home, 
whilst in glowing language they speak of the " Sainted Du- 
rand,' whose death caused the vacancy about which his sur« 
vivors are squabbling. 



A RIDE THROUGH BURGUNDY. 271 

LETTER XLVI. 

A RIDE THROUGH BURGUNDY. 

Paris, October 4. 
The longest railway in France is that between Paris and 
Marseilles, by way of Lyons. By the fastest trains it is a ride 
of twenty hours, and it is the great route between England 
and France and all parts of the Mediterranean Sea, for Mar- 
seilles is the chief French port, and from its eligible position 
near the mouth of the Rhone, sends out steam-lines in all 
directions. Lyons is in Southern France, nearly two-thirds 
of the distance down to Marseilles, and the Lyonnaise partake 
somewhat of the ennui induced by their climate, for their 
business people always take a noontide rest. It would be very 
strange in Philadelphia, were merchants and clerks to desert 
their counting-rooms for two hours at mid-day, yet this is the 
fashion at Lyons. From about 11.30 to 1.30 it is impossible 
to transact business in Lyons, for during that time, which we 
would regard as the best part of the business day, no one can 
be found in his office. They are all at the cafes, taking the 
Frenchman's " second breakfast," gossiping, reading news- 
papers, playing games, or doing anything that will best kill 
time till they can go back again. Business is done earlier in 
the morning, or later in the afternoon ; every one protesting 
against the absurdity, but every one yielding to it. Leaving 
Lyons in the early morning we rode for eleven hours, and 
were in Paris by dark. It was the fastest train on the great 
line, makiug connections farther south with the chief Oriental 
routes of travel, and it probably may be regarded as a repre- 
sentative of French fast railway travelling. Yet we can beat 
it in a good many ways, and on any of our leading American 
railways. This train, which started with much ceremony, 
calculated to impress the traveller with its importance, carried 
only iirst-class passengers and charged these at the rate of 
nearly five cents a mile. Its time-table did not require a 
higher rate of speed than thirty miles an hour, and this it 
was unable to keep up, for it got considerably behind time, 



272 A HOLIDAY TOUR. 

owing to that well-known railroad disease — a " hot-box" ; and 
after it had lost fifteen minutes' time, seemed incapable of 
gaining upon it, as our delayed trains do at home. It in no 
case ran over twenty miles without a stop ; yet with a score 
of stoppages on the route, — one of them for a half-hour, — 
the tickets were not once looked at, and, so far as through 
passengers were concerned, no railway official examined them, 
until they were taken up on arrival in Paris. This is in 
strange contrast to the usual European custom of bothering 
the passengers for tickets every few minutes, and punching 
them so thoroughly that when the journey ends they look 
almost like a sieve. 

The route from Lyons to Paris ran north, and made a per- 
ceptible change in the climate. It took us out of the warm 
influences of the Mediterranean into the colder region con- 
trolled by the Atlantic and North Sea. Starting in balmy air 
and warm breezes, before many hours overcoats and shawls 
had to be put on. The line runs up the Saone, then across 
the water-shed to the Yonne, down to the Seine and thence 
into Paris. Starting in the picturesque scenery of the Jura 
Mountains, it rushes through tunnels and around curves, and 
then gradually subsides to tameness, for Central France is an 
almost level plain, highly cultivated, but uninteresting to look 
at ; and this was the course of the railway for hours, as the 
train ran through the famous province of Burgundy, about 
which so much has been sung and written, and over which 
there was in times past many a battle. This is the Frenchman's 
wine-garden. Here grows his claret, his beloved nectar from 
the region of the Cote d'Or. His best champagne, which 
elsewhere grows, he sends abroad, chiefly, it is said, to America, 
where the highest prices are obtained. But his best Burgundy 
the Frenchman drinks himself, and the outside world must be 
content with the poorer qualities. For hours we coursed along 
the edges of the gentle hills whereon the grapes are grown that 
make the claret. It was the vintage period. They were gath- 
ering the grapes and putting them in casks set on little carts. 
The railway gave every evidence of passing through a wine- 
growing country, for all the freight-trains were laden with wine* 
casks ; all the stations were piled up with them, and nearly 
all the passengers carried bottles. The train would stop and 
the Frenchman rush into the restaurant and come back with 



A RIDE THROUGH BURGUNDY. 273 

his bottle. Mademoiselle would get aboard with a lap-do** 
under one arm and a bottle under the other. Every few min- 
utes as we moved along there was the clatter of smashing 
glass as some passenger threw his empty bottle out of the 
window, and for two hundred miles that line must be at least 
partially ballasted with broken bottles. You could get any 
amount to drink, but water was very scarce. 

There are about two hundred and twenty-five thousand 
acres of vineyards in Burgundy, the most famous being those 
of the Cote a" Or, of which Dijon is the centre, and the very 
best brands being grown near that ancient city. These best 
brands never leave France, for two good reasons. Their sup- 
ply is limited, and the French connoisseurs will pay more for 
them than anybody else. Then a sea-voyage entirely spoils 
their bouquet. Even so short a voyage as that across the 
English Channel greatly damages them, and in fact they can 
ill bear much transportation of any kind. These fine wines 
are never moved excepting in bottle, and they only leave the 
few vineyards producing them after they have been kept some 
time, and they are then disposed of at auction. They are, of 
course, but a small proportion of the vast amount of wine that 
Burgundy produces, an average yield being about fifty-five 
million gallons, valued at ten million dollars. The Burgun- 
dians themselves know how to appreciate their famous product, 
for they consume about one-half of it at home, which will to 
some extent account for the activity among the bottles all 
along the line of the railway. They export the remainder, 
sending it to all parts of the world, and much of the " Via 
ordinaire," the great French drink, is sold in Burgundy at 
from seven to ten cents a gallon at the vineyard, so that, even 
allowing for enormous retail profits, the Parisian can get his 
wine for ten or twelve cents a quart. The French do not 
want a strong wine, preferring a weak one, quantity being the 
object with most of them, for they rarely drink water, and 
must get fluid of some kind somewhere. Nature, however, 
adapts itself to almost anything. As the Burgundians are 
not water-drinkers, so we could travel for miles through that 
famous region without seeing even the smallest stream of water. 
Nature is not lavish of her gifts where they are not wanted. 

The railway ride, otherwise than as furnishing a chance to 
study the wine question, is not, however, an interesting one, 

M* 



274 A HOLIDAY TOUR. 

It passes through Macon, where the Genevans come to go to 
Paris ; Chalons, which has a Roman relic in the shape of a 
dilapidated granite column ; Dijon, which sells wine ; Baume, 
which does likewise ; Tonnere, which has a beautiful avenue 
of lime-trees ; Joigny, where the Yonne is reached ; Sens, 
with a fine Cathedral, which can be plainly seen for a long 
distance, though, like so many of the European churches, its 
towers are yet incomplete ; Montereau, where the Yonne flows 
into the Seine, and where Napoleon I. gained his last victory ; 
and, finnlly, Fontainebleau. The great forest of Fontaine- 
bieau, which contains over forty thousand acres, and is sixty- 
three miles in circumference, is one of the famous royal hunt- 
ing-grounds of Frauce. It is chiefly covered with heath and 
underwood, though it has groves of fine trees, and it is left 
very much in its natural state, so that it may be a roaming- 
place for the wild boar. Roads intersect it in all directions, 
and in the principal one stands the obelisk marking the spot 
where " the spectral black huntsman," then haunting the 
wood, appeared to King Henry IV. immediately before his 
assassination. There is a fine palace in the wood ; but as a 
forest, the portion exhibited along the Lyons Railway does not 
show to great advantage, and if it is a fair specimen of the 
whole, the timber is not good for much. The railway runs 
for a long distance through the forest, and it looks like a 
journey through the Jersey pines to Atlantic City. The 
trees are small and scrawny, and the appearance is that of a 
miserable growth on poor land. I know many a forest of less 
fame near Philadelphia, that to my eyes made a much better 
show than this great forest of Fontainebleau. Why not em- 
park about forty thousand acres of the Jersey pines, turn a 
drove of wild hogs into it, and give it a high-sounding title, 
and then make it the fashion for the sport-loving public to go 
there to chase the pigs? If this were done it would serve 
every useful purpose that Fontainebleau does, whilst as 
] feasant wine can be grown in the Jersey neighborhood as 
that sold here. American tourists who go thirty-five hundred 
miles to see this French park might also possibly be induced 
to go and see the other, if only the fashion were set, and the 
trip made sufficiently expensive. Soon after leaving Fontaine- 
bleau we crossed the Marne at its confluence with the Seine, 
and entering Paris, the long day's ride was over. 



FROM PARIS TO LONDON. 275 

LETTER XLVII. 

FROM PARIS TO LONDON. 

London, October 8. 
As the month of October grew older we began to get warn- 
ings that it was time to leave Paris. Perpetual sunshine by 
no means reigns in that city. The weather became cold. Fog 
hung over the entire region in the mornings and rains were 
frequent. The piercing winds brought the leaves scurrying 
down from the trees, but there was not that wealth of coloring 
that brightens the American autumnal forest. The streets 
got full of mud, and, though the sun was hot enough at 
mid-day, the mornings and the evenings were anything but 
pleasant, and in fact were not as attractive as the mornings 
and evenings of this season at home. Thus the weather gave 
signal of the approach of the inclement period, which is as 
unpleasant at Paris as it is anywhere else, and, in spite of the 
glitter and show, the visitor was warned that it was time to 
leave. When we returned to Paris we did not take the same 
lodgings as on the previous visit. Mademoiselle, whose metri- 
cal system of apportioning sugar-lumps and beefsteak, at so 
many square inches per person, I have heretofore described, 
had let her apartments to some one else, — a Russian princess, 
she confidentially said, — and added, the next in rank to the 
Czar. This was told to impress us with the importance of 
Mademoiselle's apartments. As all Americans are kings, and 
gallantry is a characteristic of the race (and we could not help 
it), we therefore abandoned the apartments to the princess, and 
she is now enjoying the three or four square inches of beef- 
steak, and the four lumps of sugar which are the daily ration 
at that part of the Champs Elysees, and may possibly divide 
them with the Czar when he calls to see her. We got housed 
elsewhere in a hotel, where we were allured by the attractive 
words, " American Hotel," and a placard which said " English 
Spiked." It was a comfortable place, but the English certainly 
was "spiked," — in fact, impaled, murdered, — and the conversa- 
tion in that hotel during our brief stay was simply a panto- 



276 A HOLIDAY TOUR. 

mime. But we learnt enough, even by pantomime, in the 
hotel, to discover that the Russian princess above mentioned 
was an exile, who had quarrelled with her third or fourth hus- 
band, and was one out of several hundred princesses, each of 
whom was next in rank, etc., and the majority of whom had 
been put out of their own country, and had come to Paris to 
wait for something to turn up. 

We, therefore, after a brief stay, heeding the meteorological 
warnings, took our last look at the Exposition, and at Notre 
Dame and its " gates of paradise," as the special front doors 
are called through which royalty only enters the great church. 
— a circumstance which made Victor Hugo suggest that prob- 
ably the gates where ordinary people enter ought, therefore, 
to be called the " gates of t'other place." We also bade good- 
by to the Garden of Acclimatation, that attractive enclosure in 
the Bois de Boulogne, where Paris has its Zoological Garden, 
but, having eaten up most of the animals during the siege, 
has supplied their places as well as may be. Here is the most 
extraordinary collection of dogs I ever saw, embracing hun- 
dreds of all breeds and all degrees, and all barking in chorus. 
Here also, a fine collection of tropical birds is kept in heated 
apartments, including thousands of bright-colored, chirping 
little strangers from Africa and South America, that, as they 
flitted about, reminded me of the ever-changing beauties of 
the kaleidoscope. Here the elephants and camels carried not 
the children only, but grown men and women, and the bigger 
the rider the more anxious he seemed to get on the animal's 
back. Here the ostrich, harnessed to a carriage, strutted about 
the grounds with a load of little folks, followed by a great 
many more who could not get on. It is a lovely place, but 
the winds were playing havoc with the foliage, and giving 
warning that even bright Paris must succumb to approaching 
winter. 

We got up early in the morning, long before daylight, to 
catch the train to London, which starts before breakfast, and, 
of course, from a station on the other side of the great city. 
This is a bad habit that railway trains have, to which I have 
heretofore alluded. But there was consolation in the thought 
that it was the quickest train between the two cities, and, as 
the announcement declared, went " through in nine hours" 
over the shortest sea-route, that by Calais and Dover. But 




NOTRE DAME ("WEST FRONT) 



FROM PARIS TO LONDON. 277 

the sequel proved that railway announcements, in Europe as 
in America, are liable to mistakes ; the " nine hours" stretched 
to eleven hours and a quarter before we arrived in London, 
and the Channel passage was accompanied by all the discom- 
forts for which it has ever been famous. How I wish some 
American Bismarck of transportation would come over here 
and teach these people how to conduct their travelling in a 
way that is satisfactory and comfortable to the traveller ! It 
is amazing that on the lines connecting the two great cities of 
the world things are not done better. The railway ran north 
from Paris for hours through the uninteresting but highly- 
cultivated plain which surrounds that city, and passed into 
the historical region of Normandy. It went through Amiens, 
which contains the great Cathedral of France, and the third 
largest church in Europe, where they keep in state the skull 
of John the Baptist, which was brought here from the East 
during the Crusades. Here Peter the Hermit was born, the 
preacher who inspired the Crusades. Then we passed the 
battle-field of Crecy, where the use of cannon enabled the 
Black Prince to defeat one hundred thousand Frenchmen, 
though he had but thirty thousand English. This was over 
five hundred years ago, and Albert Edward now wears the 
spurs and feathers which his predecessor then won. Then 
we reached the river Somme at Abbeville, got into better 
scenery, and followed that river down to its mouth, at Bou- 
logne. Here the shore of the English Channel is reached at 
that famous French watering-place, where millions are being 
spent to create an artificial harbor, but where the tide, twice 
every day, will run down so low that it leaves almost every 
floating thing high and dry. Boulogne is not so attractive as 
Brighton, nor as large, but the French think a great deal of 
it, and it is a strongly-fortified city as well as a watering- 
place. Here Napoleon, in 1804, gathered the great army 
and fleet with which he intended to invade England, but 
Nelson's skill overmastered him, the stunning blow of Trafalgar 
came, and the invasion, which gave John Bull more fright 
than anything else threatened since the Spanish Armada, had 
to be abandoned. As the railway train rushed through the 
tunnelled hills the column could be seen, one hundred and 
sixty-six feet high, surmounted by Napoleon's statue, erected 
to mark the invasion, and which has been standing there ever 

24 



278 A HOLIDAY TOUR. 

since, a token of the folly of counting chickens before they 
are hatched. Then, from Boulogne, the railway runs along 
the coast to Calais and enters the ponderous fortifications of that 
famous, battle-scarred town, from the ramparts of which the 
chalk cliffs of Dover can be distinctly seen across the Channel. 

RE-CROSSING THE CHANNEL. 

The train runs out on the pier alongside the little cockle- 
shell steamer that is to take us across the Channel. The pas- 
sengers crowd along the gangways, tugging their hand-bagf 
and wraps. A drove of Anglo-French sailors seize the trunks, 
batter them about, slide them down to the steamboat deck, ami 
give as thorough and destructive an exhibition of " baggage 
smashing" as can be got up in any part of America. We 
crowd on the steamer, the gangway being lined with French 
gendarmes and police agents, and undergo the last act of the 
constant police surveillance and espionage which dogs every 
stranger and half the natives in the supposed free French 
Republic. Our bags are looked at and every one's name and 
nationality demanded. It was a remarkable fa.ct that half 
the English-speaking passengers were named "Sinitlr' and 
" Jones," which names seemed to thoroughly satisfy the police 
agents, who politely thanked their givers. They were prob- 
ably much more anxious about the continental nations than 
about the English, but the fact nevertheless disclosed the 
absurdity of the question. So, having passed this gaunt- 
let, we got aboard. It was a poor little steamer, with very 
primitive accommodation for the passengers. They had to 
sit down on hard benches on a deck that had no covering, and 
were subject to being broiled by the sun or drenched by the 
rain, as the case might be. There was no comfort for any one, 
and as soon as the boat started, and had got fairly out in the 
Channel, the people began getting sick. The little craft was 
tossed about by the waves, and it was only a few minutes be- 
fore the deck presented a pitiable sight. The seamen ran 
about with wash-basins, which they thrust under passengers' 
noses, and then held out their hands for "tips." Before the 
Channel had been half crossed, two-thirds the people were 
sick, lying on the hard benches or else on the decks. Among 
them the few well ones, probably to show their freedom from 
sickness, persisted in walking, and were tumbled pell-mell to 



RE-CROSSING THE CHANNEL. 279 

leeward every time the boat gave a lurch. Every few minutes 
there thus was caused a grand scramble as some pedestrian 
was tumbled over a pile of invalids, and all hands, including 
the wash-basins, went rolling down together. Had it not been 
for the awful solemnity that sea-sickness inspires, the show 
would have been as good as the circus, but the man who 
would have roared with laughter at it on land, could see no 
fun in it on the Channel. Thus we did our crossing on the 
great line that promises it in ninety minutes, but does it in 
two hours, and we came into port a sorrowful lot, full of vexa- 
tion, sadness, and complaints, inspired by the miserable ordeal. 
The new twin steamer, Calais-Douvres, was not on the line 
that day. She is prescribed as a sure preventive of sea-sick- 
ness, but they have a fashion of not running her when a bad 
sea is promised, the better, I suppose, to maintain her reputa- 
tion. She has never yet undergone the test of very rough 
weather, and she is already described by travellers as a " toler- 
ably good pitcher," many having got as thoroughly sea-sick on 
her as on the ordinary boats. What the Channel needs, as I 
have before remarked, is an effort to provide comfort for passen- 
gers who are sure to be sea-sick. Instead of endeavoring to 
invent preventives, the attention should be rather given to 
amelioration. Instead of compelling the sick passenger to lie 
about on the crowded, unprotected decks, he should be treated 
as an invalid, and given a comfortable resting-place. These 
people actually carry their horses across the Channel on the 
steamers with more attention to comfort than they give the 
first-class passengers ; and in this all the lines are alike. It is 
possible on a good day and in calm weather to make the pas- 
sage without sea-sickness in any of the boats ; but in rough 
weather the Channel passage has more terrors for most people 
than a voyage across the Atlantic. 

But we got over the Channel, and I survived, and the boat 
ran into still water behind the breakwater of Dover, where the 
white chalk cliffs of the very bold coast were dazzling in the 
sunlight. Then we went ashore, clambering up a narrow 
stairway, along which also rushed the seamen, carrying the 
trunks, so that the weak and unfortunate passenger, having 
just got out of Neptune's clutches, was in danger of having 
his head mashed by contact with a huge " Saratoga." Then 
we were seized by the railway people and sorted out for the 



280 A HOLIDAY TOUR. 

various trains that go to the different London stations. We 
made a rapid run to London, the speed, scenery, and, in fact, 
everything being in marked contrast to the morning ride from 
Paris. The English railways and their appointments are 
much better than those of France, and they maintain higher 
speed and do not waste so much time at the stations. Wa 
saw Dover Castle crowning the chalk hill that overhangs the 
town. This hill is completely honeycombed with casemates 
and military storehouses, and, in fact, is a sort of small Gibral- 
tar, where two thousand men can be kept as a garrison, and 
large amounts of provisions and ammunition be stored. We 
ran along the rich pasture-lauds of this section, with their 
flocks of sheep and droves of cattle ; passed through hill after 
hill, by tunnels ; saw hundreds of acres of hop-poles, for the 
crop had but recently been gathered ; and then came to the 
ancient town of Canterbury. The venerable Cathedral, which 
gives the title to the chief prelate of the English Church, 
showed well from the car windows, its square towers stand- 
ing out against the sky. Then we crossed the Med way, and 
passed that " one long, dirty street," running parallel to 
the river, which chiefly makes the town of Chatham, best 
known to Americans because it gave the title to the earldom 
conferred on the elder Pitt. There is a dockyard and bar- 
racks here, and there occasionally are grand reviews. The 
Medway does not present a very brilliant appearance, being a 
crooked stream, running between low sand-banks, overflowed 
at high tide, and looking not unlike the Maurice River, in 
New Jersey, which stream takes more space to go a shorter 
distance than any other I can just now recall. Up the Med- 
way valley the railway runs to Rochester, famous for its Ca- 
thedral and Castle, and then past Dulwich, into the maze of 
railways that environ London, where we trundled over the 
Thames and into Victoria Station. We were again in Lon- 
don, the world's great city, and tired enough of the eleven, 
hours' journey not to let anything prevent seeking a much- 
needed rest. 



THE SOUTH KENSINGTON MUSEUM. 281 



LETTER XLVIII. 

THE SOUTH KENSINGTON MUSEUM. 

London, October 11. 
The greatest permanent institution anywhere established for 
the popularized exhibition of scientific and art collections, with 
a view to the public education, is undoubtedly the South Ken- 
sington Museum of London. It is the outgrowth of the first 
great World's Fair, held in London in 1851, and has increased 
to proportions which its projectors scarcely dreamed of. That 
Fair, unlike any of the subsequent ones, resulted in a profit, 
and this profit was made into a fund, from the proceeds of 
which there was subsequently purchased a large tract of land 
in Kensington, then away out in the country. The tract 
adjoined Hyde Park on the south, and the increased value of 
the land, — for London has since extended to and far beyond 
it, — coupled with the wise administration of the Fund, has 
enabled the Commission in charge of it not only to sell at cost 
a very large surface for the Museum and other public purposes, 
but to so lease the remainder and invest the proceeds that the 
Fund produces an annual income equal to the entire first cost 
of the ground. Thus the museum originated and its site was 
provided. Its buildings cover twelve acres of land at present, 
whilst new buildings for its libraries, etc., are going up on an- 
other tract to the westward, which is apparently more than 
three times as large. There are occupied and available for this 
great enterprise, probably seventy acres of land, and the per- 
manent buildings already completed are of great architectural 
beauty, and are as thoroughly adapted to the purpose as can 
be devised. The Museum was opeued in 1857, and has been 
growing for twenty-one years. The Government has already 
spent over six million dollars upon the buildings and the col- 
lection of curiosities, and of this nearly one million five hun- 
dred thousand dollars has been devoted to the latter object, the 
grants for this purpose having, for several years recently, ex 
ceeded one hundred and ten thousand dollars annually. The 
Museum has also been greatly enriched by private gifts, be- 

24* 



282 A HOLIDAY TOUR. 

quests, and loans, many of its costliest gems being acquired in 
this way. It is organized on such an extensive scale that over 
three hundred persons are required to take charge of it, and 
here is located as the acting Director the well-known British 
Commissioner to the Centennial Exhibition, Colonel Sir 
Herbert Sandford, of whom Philadelphia has such pleasant 
memories, whilst A. J. R. Trendell, Esq., who was Secretary 
to the British Commission at Philadelphia, is also connected 
with the Secretariat here. Richard A. Thompson, Esq., who 
has been connected with the enterprise from its inception, is 
the Director of the Museum during the absence of Sir Francis 
Philip Cunliffe Owen, the Secretary of the British Commission 
at the Paris Exposition. 

The British Government has, in what is known as the " Sci- 
ence and Art Department," a branch that is as yet unknown in 
the Government of the United States. Education is one of the 
matters looked after by the Government here, and upon science 
and art and the promotion of their instruction about one million 
five hundred thousand dollars of the public money is annually 
expended. Representation in grand international exhibitions 
comes under the care of this Department, over which the 
Duke of Richmond presides, and it also directs a large num- 
ber of institutions in different parts of the kingdom, this 
Museum, however, being the chief. The great scope of the 
Museum is shown by a recapitulation of the collections em- 
braced within its walls. These include over thirty thousand 
objects of ornamental art, ancient, mediaeval, and modern, 
most of them of rarity and costliuess ; a similar collection, 
also of large extent, of reproductions of these articles in other 
collections, secured by electrotyping, plaster-castings, or other 
means ; an art library of over forty-five thousand volumes, 
formed, like the art collections, for the especial object of art- 
teaching ; seventeen thousand drawings, fifty-two thousand 
engravings, and forty-five thousand photographs, chiefly of 
ornamental art, also acquired for this purpose ; a collection of 
British pictures of great merit, of which the Sheepshanks 
collection was the nucleus, and including six hundred and 
seventeen oil and twelve hundred and ninety-one water-color 
paiutings, all being specimens of the best British masters ; a 
fine collection of decorative sculpture of the Renaissance 
period, in marble, stone, and terra-cotta^ including numerous 



THE SOUTH KENSINGTON MUSEUM. 283 

specimens of the Italian glazed terra-eotta of four hundred 
years ago, known as Delia Robbia ware ; an educational library 
of over thirty-six thousand volumes, with several thousand 
specimens of scientific apparatus, models, and appliances for 
educational purposes ; a vast aggregation of samples of building 
materials, and models of implements and contrivances for con- 
struction ; a complete collection of the substances used for food, 
arranged with the object of teaching their nature and sources, 
and representing their chemical composition and the natural 
sources from which they are obtained ; a collection of naval 
models and of the various appliances of modern warfare ; the 
British Patent-Office exhibition of remarkable models ; and 
besides all these, an extensive loan exhibition of great num- 
bers of similar objects belonging to all the classes mentioned. 
This catalogue will give an idea of the broad scope of the 
South Kensington Museum. Its object is to aid in science 
and art teaching. For this purpose art-students are given 
access to its almost boundless resources, with every facility for 
studying and copying. A magnificent building has also been 
constructed on the fine new street called Exhibition Road, 
which runs through the grounds, in which lectures are deliv- 
ered on Chemistry, Physics, and Natural History, by leading 
scientists. The Metropolitan Schools of Art are also attached 
to the Museum for special instruction in those branches, and 
among the latest acquisitions is a collection of furniture, 
cabinet- ware, and ornamental wood-work for instruction in 
that branch of decorative art. Three days in the week are 
devoted to students and three to the public, and on the latter 
the admission is free. The visitors number a million annu- 
ally, whilst the number of students' admissions during the 
year is over one hundred thousand, showing how extensively 
this magnificent source of knowledge is availed of. 

The Ledger would not hold the list of wonderful things 
and rare gems this great aggregation contains, and which it is 
constantly exhibiting to larger audiences by loaning for brief 
periods to museums elsewhere in the kingdom, this circulatory 
process, without detracting from the general collection, being 
adopted with good results. In this Museum are Raphael's 
famous cartoons and Michael Angelo's models ; Dr. Schlie- 
mann's collection of antiquities from Troy ; John Forster's col- 
lection of manuscripts, including those of many of Dickens's 



284 A HOLIDAY TOUR. 

novels ; a great number of models of ships of war and famous 
ocean steamers, representing almost every transatlantic line, 
but not, including, I was sorry to see, any model of the Amer- 
ican line ; models of working steam-engines, railways, dredges 
docks, drawbridges, cannon, projectiles, and other weapons ; 
the Palestine Exploration Collection ; the British Arctic Expe- 
dition Collection ; AYatt's original models, which he constructed 
whilst inventing the steam-engine ; two cases of ornamental 
snuff-boxes, and several cases of rare jewels and specimens of 
precious stones ; a great collection of ceramics, glass, porcelain, 
and decorated metal-work ; curious watches, rings, mosaics, 
miniatures, ornaments of all races, etc. There is an admirable 
system in the arrangement, the order of chronology being 
thoroughly observed in the classification, whilst the construc- 
tion of the buildings is such that the objects are exhibited to 
the best advantage, and the buildings themselves and their or- 
namentation are as much for art instruction as their contents. 
Such a museum, however, could only be the growth of years. 
It is not the British Museum, of course, for that is pre-emi- 
nently the greatest collection in the world, but as a popularized 
museum and instructor, South Kensington nowhere has a rival. 
It pleases the visitor more than any similar institution in Eu- 
rope, because its objects are effectively presented, and are of a 
kind that suit the millions who are not able to maintain the 
lofty strain that some other collections require. Then its bene- 
fits are within every one's reach ; it embraces the entire field of 
art education, and its acres of show-cases and miles of corri- 
dors contain enough to occupy a lifetime, if properly studied. 
It has become one of the great institutions of London, and, as 
it is regarded as the fountain of art education in the kingdom, 
it naturally furnishes the staff that represents England at the 
great International Exhibitions. Among the new buildings 
Dow erecting for the Museum are fine structures for its libraries 
and reading-rooms, whieh at present are very much cramped. 
This great enterprise has grown to the vast proportions assumed 
by most of London's prominent institutions, but, as it gathers 
continually what is valuable and rare from all parts of the 
world, its growth is steady, and no one can predict how enor- 
mous it may become. There is a peculiar attraction for Phila- 
delphians in the Museum, for it displays in a very prominent 
place the large photograph of the Centennial Exposition made 



EAST LONDON BY GASLIGHT. 285 

by Mr. Frederick Gutckunst, and the beautifully-engrossed 
copy of the resolutions passed by the City Councils thanking 
Her Majesty's Government for the gift to the city of St. 
George's House in Fairmount Park. 



LETTER XLIX. 

EAST LONDON BY GASLIGHT. 

London, October 14. 
One half of the world, we are told, does not know how the 
other half live, and this is eminently true of London. The 
traveller, who usually sees only the West End and Centre of 
London, rarely learns, excepting by hearsay, that there is any 
such place as the East End. The resident of the West End 
has heard enough about it not to want to go to the East End 
uuless he is compelled to. That section is, in fact, to most 
Londoners of the influential class the same as a foreign coun- 
try. They go as far as the City, where their business is 
transacted, and they do not willingly go farther. Charles 
Dickens has uncovered many of the peculiarities of that ex- 
traordinary place ; but Dickens is dead, and now they are 
known only to the police. No sensible stranger thinks of 
going there without a police escort, and few care to go even 
with it. We talk of the slums of Philadelphia and New York, 
but they are small compared with the slums of the great East 
End of London, the purlieus of Whitechapel, Spitalfields, 
Wapping, St. George's-in-the-East, Sinithfield, Shad well, and 
all that region, which has by the square mile intensified and 
multiplied the vice and wretchedness which, with us, is con- 
fined to a few streets and a comparatively small area. Never- 
theless, curiosity sometimes overrides other considerations, and 
I went to see it. The authorities of the Metropolitan Police 
were kind enough to furnish an escort, and leaving our valu- 
ables at home, we started for the rendezvous at ten o'clock in 
the evening, and going away east of the Bank of England, 
along Aldgate High Street, and Whitechapel Road, turned 



286 A HOLIDAY TOUR. 

from the latter into Leman Street, leading down towards th6 
Thames, and reached the appointed place, the Leman Street 
Police Station, which is the police headquarters of the district, 
and the centre for controlling the worst region of the great 
area ruled by the nine thousand men on the London police 
force. 

Here were waiting our escort, Captain Wallace, of the Cen- 
tral Headquarters, and Sergeant Clark, of the district, and we 
were first given a view of the station, cells, etc. It was Sat- 
urday night, and a brisk business was going on. Every few 
minutes the patrolmen brought in prisoners, mostly charged 
with being drunk And disorderly, fighting, and assault and 
battery. They were of the lowest class, and chiefly women. 
Along with the prisoner always came the accuser and a sympa- 
thizing crowd, whom the police drove out of the yard. Nearly 
all had broken heads, bleeding profusely. The patrolman, 
with his lantern on his belt, as soon as the prisoner was brought 
in, arraigned him for an immediate preliminary trial before the 
sergeant in charge, who decided whether there was sufficient 
cause to hold the prisoner for formal trial next day by the 
Police Magistrate. Trivial cases were thus at once dismissed. 
But few cases were trivial. The examination was not under 
oath, and consisted chiefly of a cross-fire between the accuser 
and the accused, the sergeant asking questions, and, with sur- 
prising skill, getting quickly at the gist of the dispute. Whilst 
the examination went on the police washed the broken heads, 
and if the wounds were serious, called in the attending phy- 
sician. This was the regular course of business at the station, 
and the cases usually showed liquor was at the bottom of the 
trouble. The weapons with which wounds were inflicted were 
always brought along as additional testimony, and the broken- 
headed parties usually managed to horribly besmear themselves " 
with blood to give weight to their testimony. In one case a 
father accused his son of beating the family. The father was 
almost stupidly drunk, whilst the son had a terrible gash over 
the eye, and was only less drunk than the father. The arrest 
was the result of a succession of fights, in which ugly wounds 
were inflicted all around, and the son was finally arrested to 
prevent a murder and locked up as a precaution. The father 
and son berated each other as well as their condition allowed. 
In another case a woman had struck a little girl with a brush- 



EAST LONDON BY GASLIGHT. 287 

handle, and she came besmeared with blood, and her mother 
with her, to tell the tale. It was the usual result of a brawl 
in a court. The families had quarrelled all the evening, and 
finally blood was spilt. The mother prompted the child in 
her story with great volubility ; the prisoner denied every word 
that was said, and each tried to tell of a long series of quar- 
rels and provocations, but the sergeant had no time to hear it. 
The mother was careful every minute to tell her child to say 
"sir" to the sergeant. "Ain't you a scholar?" she said to 
the child. " Yes," was the answer. " Then say ' Yes, sir,' 
to his worship." None of them could write, and, when re- 
quested to sign the accusation on the books, they always made 
their marks. Thus the scene went on, the cases being sum- 
marily disposed of by the sergeant, whose object was to decide 
whether there was a case sufficient to be returned to the police 
court. Cases pressed upon him. The patrolmen came in with 
their prisoners faster almost than he could decide them. He 
was gentle, but firm, and, as I have said, showed great skill in 
quickly getting at the merits of each case. 

In this, the worst part of London, the patrolmen have to 
go in couples, for one man unsupported could be easily over- 
mastered. The rough population deal chiefly in fighting, 
broken heads and stabbing, with frequent cases of petty 
thieving. The state of affairs is such that the police effort is 
usually directed only to preventing serious fights, for they can 
do no better. To aid this purpose all the drinking-saloons, 
dance-houses, and amusement-places are compelled to close at 
midnight, and must then turn their population into the street 
and stop their supplies of liquor. These people may make as 
much noise as they please, and generally spend the greater 
part of the night wandering about, singing and roaring and 
making the streets hideous with their racket, frequently quar- 
relling and threatening, but so long as they do not fight they 
are not interfered with. There are so many thousands of 
them that they could at any time, if so inclined, overmaster 
the police, and therefore the effort is to only keep their more 
evil passions in check. As it was, excepting the noise, com- 
paratively good order was maintained, and they seemed to 
show a wholesome respect for the police, which not only 
testified the wisdom of the method pursued, but was also re- 
assuring to the six Americans (all, with one exception, from 



288 A HOLIDAY TOUR. 

Philadelphia), who were being escorted in their old clothes 
through this extraordinary region. 

The tour lasted from about eleven o'clock until nearly two in 
the morning. We were taken first to see various dance houses 
and variety shows, where a promiscuous crowd, the men being 
chiefly sailors, were watching stage performances, or else dancing 
to the music of loud but discordant bands, with women whose 
fondness for bright colors made thtni dress in the most splash- 
ing costumes. Smoking and drinking went on continually, 
and every establishment had its bar, the bar-maids being kept 
busy drawing the potations, which were chiefly of malt liquors. 
The flags of all nations decked these establishments, as they 
were designed to attract the sailor, and I saw in them some of 
the most astonishing attempts at constructing the American 
flag. In the show-places the men sat with their hats on and 
their feet generally over the backs of the seats, and whenever a 
song was sung the entire audience joined in the chorus. The 
performers must have talked English ; but they, like almost 
every one in this remarkable locality, used a dialect so full of 
slang and of uncouth pronunciation that very little of it could 
be understood. Tremendous noise, but good order prevailed. 
The moment any one attempted a disturbance he was uncere- 
moniously hustled out. We were taken to a half-dozen of 
these places, some of very revolting appearance and almost 
stifling atmosphere. Their chief customer was the sailor, 
and their surroundings showed that when I13 was through 
with them there was but little chance of his having any money 
left. The loungers around the outside were ready to take 
what the harpies inside might have overlooked. 

Then we were taken through various dingy, narrow streets, 
filled with a noisy, restless population, though it was near 
midnight, and, seeing frequent petty brawls and disturbances 
and much drunkenness, went down into a street among the 
docks, called Old Gravel Lane. Here, amid the warehouses, 
we were walked upon a drawbridge crossing a canal leading 
between the two sections of the Loudon Docks. The dark 
and dirty water flowed beneath, and a policeman stood sentry 
in the fog that almost obscured the moonlight. This was 
the London " Bridge of Sighs," so named because that lonely 
place among the warehouses is the favorite resort for the most 
wretched and abandoned of that region to commit suicide. 



EAST LONDON BF GASLIGHT. 289 

It is an easy plunge over the low railing alongside the narrow 
footway, and the suicides were formerly so frequent that it 
was necessary to guard the place. A policeman is always on 
duty on the bridge, his beat being only its meagre length of 
about fifty feet. We paused a moment and then passed on. 
We had gone but a few steps when a noisy party came along, 
men and women and children. A man ahead was carrying an 
infant wrapped in an old shawl. A drunken woman was en- 
deavoring to knock him down, and the crowd was excitedly 
following. They had been all turned out of a public-house, 
and the father was trying to save the innocent babe which the 
drunken mother in her frenzy wanted to destroy. Over the 
" Bridge of Sighs" went this noisy party, and the policeman 
there gave the needed protection. 

The workhouse of St. George's-in-the-East was not far away, 
and we gave it a passing visit. It is a large almshouse, with 
a thousand permanent inmates, many of them in the hospital. 
Its " Casual Ward," however, was the chief attraction. Here 
came the tramp, and the unfortunate of both sexes, and they 
were taken in at any hour of the night, and given lodging and 
food. When received they were made to strip off their cloth- 
ing and take a bath, and were then given a loaf of bread and 
sent to bed. Everything was clean, and, though rude, was 
comfortable. Recent investigations have greatly improved 
these workhouses. The paupers' clothing, after it is stripped 
from them, is bundled up and numbered, and then put in an 
oven, under which sulphur is burned for disinfection. Next 
morning they are routed out before seven o'clock, and given 
another loaf of bread for breakfast, after which they work 
three hours at sawing wood or picking oakum. They do not 
like the work, and it is imposed in the endeavor to break up 
the tramp nuisance. Eight of them at a time are set at turn- 
ing a windlass which works a circular saw. This workhouse 
represents about the worst parish in London. Its Casual 
Ward was nearly filled when we looked in upon it at midnight, 
and the sleeping paupers lay on the rows of little beds, without 
pillows, which were ranged along the sides of a long room with 
many windows for ventilation, but the atmosphere of which 
was nevertheless very close, as the paupers seemed afraid of 
fresh air. They were a wretched lot. 

Next we were taken through a long series of dark alleys 
n 25 



290 A HOLIDAY TOUR. 

and courts with noisome houses, into a court away off from 
the frequented streets, at the end of which the officers knocked 
at the door of a little dingy house. After some time they 
roused the solitary inmate, a Chinaman, who groped down the 
narrow, winding stair, and let us in. We ascended with diffi- 
culty to his den in the upper story, a low room in which you 
could hardly stand upright, and lighted by a small, dirty win- 
dow. The furniture consisted of two old bedsteads, with filthy 
bolsters set on the side against the wall. It was one of the 
dens of the opium-smokers, although the Chinaman had no 
customer at the time but himself. He reclined on the bed 
with his lighted lamp alongside him, and prepared the opium 
pellets for the Lascars and Chinamen who search him out, and 
for sixpence or a shilling get their beloved thimbleful of the 
drug, and smoke and dream away on his revolting beds. In 
" pidgin English" he told us his history. He had been in 
London forty years, and for over twenty had kept that den. 
He had plenty of business, and on some nights his customers 
consumed a half-pound of opium. He took it regularly, and 
his daily dose was an ounce. He could not live a day without 
it. He showed us the black molasses-like drug, and the little 
thimbles in which he sold it to his customers after heating and 
mixing it. He then smoked a pipe to show how it was done, 
and did his smoking in a way that is unknown with us. For 
three or four minutes he sucked the opium-smoke out of the 
pipe, and inhaled it all into his lungs. Then he laid the pipe 
down and passed an interval almost without breathing. Then 
he slowly exhaled great volumes of smoke, filling the room. 
How he could hold so much was the mystery. His move- 
ments were sluggish and his face wan and cadaverous, but his 
eyes were bright, and he seemed to have the most intense en- 
joyment of the smoke. The whole house smelled as if satu- 
rated with carbolic acid, the fumes of the opium producing 
an odor very much like the acid and having a similar effect in 
driving away vermin. " Johnny," as they called him, was 
perfectly harmless, but he seemed to have a wholesome dread 
of the police, and paid them great deference. 

We were also taken to see the cheap lodging-houses of this 
section of London, where, at a cost of from six to eight cents, 
beds are let out by the night to all comers. These houses are 
under constant police surveillance, and some of them contain as 



EAST LONDON BY GASLIGHT. 291 

high as three hundred beds. They all have signs announcing 
them to be a " Registered Lodging-House," and once or twice 
a week they undergo a thorough inspection, whilst twice a 
year a complete cleansing and whitewashing is enforced. 
Some take in lodgers all night; some close at 1 a.m. The 
lodgers are put in large dormitories and locked in. They are 
furnished, in the higher class houses, with a straw pillow, but 
in the lower class the lodger generally gets only a straw pal- 
let and blanket, and makes a bundle of his clothes for a pillow. 
The down-stairs floor is the kitchen and wash-room. Here 
they can cook their food and wash their clothes, and sit up 
till they want to go to bed. The houses were all well filled. 
We took a survey of these houses of various classes, and were 
finally led into Flower-and-Dean Street, where the lowest class 
of these houses is found, being the resort chiefly of the most 
abandoned characters and thieves. We visited the " Louise 
and Lome Chambers," where it was announced that " a porter 
would be in attendance all night," and that " all persons creat- 
ing disturbance would be immediately put out without their 
money." Here, after one o'clock in the morning, we found a 
noisy crowd in the street, and some lively ones in the kitchen, 
who immediately informed us that they were very thirsty. 
There were, both inside and outside, many women carrying 
infants, and also children. In fact, late as it was, the streets 
showed frequent crowds of people roaming about, singing, 
quarrelling, and carousing, the majority appearing to be bare- 
headed women, most of them with infants. I doubt whether 
thousands of the poor little children of this abandoned locality 
ever get much shelter at night, unless their parents take them 
to the workhouse to find it. We examined the kitchen of 
this place, and then the proprietor, with a candle without a 
candlestick, took us up a tortuous, rickety stair to the labyrinths 
above, where he had hundreds of beds, most of them occupied 
by snoring people, who probably included some of the worst 
characters of London. But all were thoroughly respectful, 
and throughout the strange expedition no one, beyond chaf- 
fing or unintentional jostling, attempted to molest us. It was 
an extraordinary journey, and just before two o'clock we 
parted from our escort and took cabs for home. The streets 
were lively, for London turns night into day in the West End 
as well as the East End. Most of the great clubs seemed to 



292 A HOLIDAY TOUR. 

be still open, and there were many people in the streets, aim- 
lessly walking about, or sleeping in odd corners. Occasionally 
a policeman would wake up a sleeper, and giving him a sharp 
rubbing over the ears to effectually rouse him, compel him to 
" move on." But we went homeward contented with our lot 
in life. No lesson would better teach this content. We had 
left a fine dinner-table in one of London's grand houses to go 
and see this sight ; and we came away from Whitechapel with 
a lesson that none will forget. Its restless population is Lon- 
don's problem and dread. What to do with it no one can tell. 
Occasionally it overflows all checks, and rages in the riots that 
we hear of, but in ordinary times the helmeted officer, with 
his mace and lantern, can control this great mass of humanity, 
which fills up square miles of the East End of London with 
probably more wretchedness and vice than is found on any 
other equal surface in the world. 



LETTER L. 



LONDON TO LIVERPOOL. 



New York, October 25. 
On a foggy morning, when it was difficult to see across the 
street until the approach of the sun drove away some of the 
clouds, we bade farewell to London. The cabby drove us 
quickly to Euston Square, for he could thread the streets what- 
ever the weather, and we took the " Scotch Express," on the 
London aud Northwestern Railway, to Liverpool. This is the 
great railway of England, and the " Scotch Express" is one 
of its fastest trains. We started in fog and gloom, but soon 
emerged into sunshine, for the fog is a peculiarity of London 
and the Thames Valley, and a few miles outside it entirely dis- 
appeared, and the sun came out pleasantly. We were whirl- 
ing along at the rate of fifty miles an hour, whisking past 
stations, and through, over, and under the* succession of gar- 
dens of which England seems to be almost entirely made up. 
We stopped twice, and in a few hours had accomplished the 
two hundred and two miles between London and Liverpool. 



LONDON TO LIVERPOOL. 293 

We stopped at Rugby, famous for its school and as one of the 
most complex railway junctions in England, whence Dickens's 
" Mugby Junction" is derived, and we stopped at Crewe, 
which seems a labyrinth of railway-shops, sidings, and store- 
houses. The railway has an enormous traffic, and is almost 
throughout its line provided with four tracks to accommodate it. 
"Where it does not have them they are now being constructed, 
and the great steam-digger was seen along the line like a huge 
dredging-machine, scooping the earth out of the hill-side and de- 
positing it on the gravel-cars to be hauled away. Here we were 
treated to frequent insights into the way of running a great Eng- 
lish railway, and were also shown the remarkable fare-lists that 
English railway managers issue, which contain, in parallel 
columns, the rates of fare between the various stations, for first-, 
second-, and third-class passengers, horses and dogs, all of which 
are provided with accommodations on the trains. The dog is 
not so unceremoniously treated in England as he is with us 
when he travels. On the contrary, his rights are recognized. 
The railways provide him with special accommodations, and 
so do the hotels. In fact, the dogs are great travellers in Her 
Majesty's dominions, and they have to be taken care of; but, 
like everything else English, they have their well-defined posi- 
tion in the social scale. Therefore the English hotels hang 
up notices in the rooms announcing the rates for boarding dogs 
as well as people. " This room is five shillings," read the an- 
nouncement in the Liverpool hotel, but it ominously added, 
" Each dog kept in this room is charged half a guinea a day." 
Thus the dog is a more costly boarder than his owner, because 
the hotel proprietor desired to force the dog-owners to put 
them in the place provided for them in the lower part of the 
hotel. 

We arrived at Liverpool to find it excited about an election 
for City Councilmen. The politicians covered the walls and 
fences with placards appealing to the voters very much as we 
do, and I was somewhat surprised to find the great show-bills 

leading off with the words, " To the Electors of Ward, 

— Ladies and Gentlemen. " They have got in this portion of 
the British Monarchy to the point that Philadelphia has not 
yet reached, — they enjoy female suffrage. The portion of the 
Liverpool inhabitants who were not engaging in the election 
seemed to be preparing for a migration across the Atlantic. 

25* 



294 A HOLIDAY TOUR. 

The arriving railway trains emptied out crowds of homeward 
bound Americans, and the hotels were full of them and their 
boxes. Fleets of steamers were leaving with full cabins, and 
the rush which had been eastward earlier in the season was 
now turned westward. We made a drop to add to the cur- 
rent, and found our countrymen, after roaming all over Europe, 
were unanimous on one thing : they preferred their own coun- 
try to all others as a place to live in, and were glad to be on 
the homeward track again. 

Reaching Liverpool we were subjected to the accident 
which frequently befalls ocean travellers. They make all their 
arrangements for the homeward journey, and having firm re- 
liance on the certainty of the transatlantic ferry, usually go 
to Liverpool on the eve of their sailing day. We went thus, 
and found that our ship was not going. She had needed re- 
pairs, and had been docked for the purpose. But the inade- 
quate docking facilities of Liverpool for the very large steam- 
ships of the present day is shown in the fact that, having 
gone into the repairing dock at the time of high spring-tides, 
the neap-tides had caught her, and she could not be floated 
out for several days. She was practically a prisoner ; she 
could not get out until much after her appointed day of sail- 
ing, and her passengers had to be provided elsewhere. But 
in the emergency the American line agents were very kind, 
and, through the courtesy of the Iuman Steamship Company, 
we were transferred to their fine steamer, the City of Brussels, 
Captain Frederick Watkins. So, on another gloomy, foggy 
morning, we went down to the Prince's Landing Stage, and 
got on one of those strong but uncomfortable tugs that are 
employed to transfer passengers from the wharf to the ocean 
steamers. We could dimly see the vessel, with steam up, 
waiting for us out in mid-river. The passengers came strag- 
gling aboard the tug, and porters brought on huge trunks on 
their backs, and when they had piled a lighter almost full 
they carried in a half-dozen sacks of mails, and then we 
started. The tug and lighter steamed out alongside the great 
steamer, and in a few minutes we were off. It was just at 
high water, for the bar in the Mersey has to be crossed at 
high tide ; we passed the light-ships and buoys marking the 
channel there, and dimly discerning the shore through the 
fog, we were soon out in the Irish Sea, and steaming along 



COVE OF CORK AND THE BLARNEY STONE. 295 

the Welsh coast. All afternoon and night we kept down and 
across the channel, past the high, bold shore at Holyhead, and, 
reaching the Irish coast, we steamed along it, and in the early 
morning dropped anchor at Queenstown harbor entrance. 

THE COVE OF CORK AND THE BLARNEY STONE. 

Fog again prevailed in the early morning, and little could be 
seen until the rising sun became strong enough to drive the mist 
away. We were lying at anchor waiting for the mails, and 
had to wait nearly all day. The great mails from England to 
America are sent from London to the steamers three times 
a week. They leave London every Tuesday, Thursday,' and 
Saturday evening, and are put aboard the steamers at Queens- 
town on the following afternoon. The steamers have to leave 
Liverpool when the tide suits, hence they frequently make 
long waits at Queenstown, and in this case there was ample 
time for an excursion ashore. We, therefore, went off on the 
tug in the morning, and, the fog having lifted, we had a beau- 
tiful sail up through the land-locked Cove of Cork, whose 
green waters make one of the finest harbors in the world. The 
entrance is a narrow way between bold hills that are strongly 
fortified, and Spike Island and its attendant forts make an 
almost impregnable defence to this famous harbor, where over 
three hundred large vessels, most of them bound from America, 
were at anchor, having, as the mercantile phrase goes, come " to 
Cork for orders." Here the shipmaster, having sailed his ves- 
sel across the Atlantic, drops in as the most convenient port 
of call, to get orders from the shipper whither he shall go to 
deliver his cargo. It is one of the best and most frequented 
ports in Europe, and, as you sail up the Cove, Queenstown 
lies before you, terraced on the side of a steep hill, the growth 
of the recent necessities of trade. Queenstown has not much 
to attract the visitor, save the beauty of its situation, and he 
soon goes whirling up the river Lee on the railway to Cork. 
Here a jaunting-car rattles you around to see the sights, which 
the voluble driver explains with any amount of blarney, whilst 
beggars try to get you to part with stray coppers. Cork is not 
so pretentious a town as some others, but it still contains 
enough to make a visit pleasant. Its chief building is the 
new Episcopal Cathedral of St. Fin Barre, which is being 
built by the disestablished Irish Church, at a cost of six hun- 



206 A HOLIDAY TOUR. 

dred and fifty thousand dollars, and is almost completed. This 
very fine church, which has been twelve years constructing, 
stands on a hill-top, and can be seen from afar. Its main 
tower is yet to be completed, and will be two hundred and 
sixty feet high. Cork is very proud of this church, which is 
one of the finest in Ireland, and much of the pride comes from 
the fact that its builder, once a poor boy, has been also the 
architect of his own fortune. I tried to find out the popula- 
tion of Cork, but the driver said it varied too much for him 
to give an accurate estimate, though it was very great indeed. 
I asked why it varied, and he answered, because there were 
so many children born that it was impossible to count them, 
or even baptize them. " There's many a child," he said, 
" that runs around Cork for a twelvemonth, without so much 
as having a name to bless himself with." 

But a visit to Cork and its Walk of Mardyke and its pretty 
drives along the river Lee, is incomplete without a journey to 
the castle and groves of Blarney and the famous " Blarney 
Stone." This celebrated castle is now an ivy-covered ruin, 
and the " Blarney Stone" is situated in the northern angle, in 
an almost inaccessible position, several feet below the top. It 
is a broad, flat stone, set upon brackets like a cornice, and has, 
rudely carved in it, the inscription, " Cormach McCarthy, 
fortis mi fiori fecit, 1446." Kissing the Blarney Stone, 
which is, of course, the ambition of every true Irishman, is 
a feat of no little difficulty. To do it, he either has to be 
lowered down, or held, head downwards, from the top of the 
wall. But the Irish hereabouts have mother wit enough to 
get out of the difficulty. They have another stone on the 
Castle floor which they say has all the virtues of the real one, 
and is much easier to kiss. It is quite possible that this is 
true, but whether it be so or not, the veritable " Blarney 
Stone" is so hard to get at that it ought to do some good for 
the venturesome man who may try to reach it. The old song 
says: 

" There is a stone there, whoever kisses, 

Oh, he niver misses to grow eloquint; 

"lis he may clamber to a lady's chamber, 

Or become a mimber of swate Parliamint. 

A clever spouter he'll sure turn out, or 

An out-an-outer to be lit alone. 

Don't hope to hinder him or to bewilder him ; 

Shure he's a pilgrim from the Blarney Stone/' 



COVE OF CORK AND THE BLARNEY STONE. 297 

And now, having paid devotion to the famous " Blarney 
Stone," what better could I do than to immediately start for 
America? We at once left for Queenstown to join the steamer. 
The mails arrived in the afternoon, and with them the stray 
passengers. They all came down to the tender at the Queens- 
town wharf, followed by a crowd of peddlers and mendicants, 
who scented profit from afar. There were the itinerant vend- 
ers of Irish lace, bog-oak jewelry, and the shillelahs. made 
of the " rale ould Limerick blackthorn, which it is an honor 
to your worship to carry home wid ye to Ameriky." The 
mails, nearly four tons of them, were carried aboard on men's 
backs, and thrown down on the deck of the tender, and the 
gang-plank was hauled in, and the whistle blew, but still we 
did not start. A passenger was on the wharf chaffering with 
an ancient Irish dame, who had come all the way from Lim- 
erick to sell shillelahs. He wanted the price reduced ; she 
would not reduce, for " it wad dishonor that noble stick not 
to charge a fair price for it ;" and the great transatlantic mail 
was waiting, including a ponderous despatch bag for the Secre- 
tary of State, until the bargain was concluded. But the old 
lady would not yield, and the mail probably would have been 
waiting until now, had not an officer brought the passenger 
aboard — -without the shillelah. The tender steamed out 
through the fleet of vessels, past Spike Island and its forts and 
penal settlement, and between the two great forts that guard 
the harbor entrance, — Rocky Island, with its excavated caverns 
and chambers that hold many thousand barrels of gunpowder, 
and Haulbowline Island, with its great water-tank hewn out 
of the solid rock, — and the tender finally came alongside the 
steamer. The mails were carried aboard and thrown down 
into the hold. Then the steamer started, and, the tug parting 
company, the pilot was taken off, and the journey began along 
the Irish coast and out into the Atlantic. We rapidly sailed 
along the bold Irish shore, gradually moving farther and farther 
away from its great headlands, and, when dark night had come, 
we passed Fastnet Light far to the north of us. The great 
light, perched on its isolated rock, revolving and quickly 
flashing far across the sea, and the more distant and more 
slowly-revolving light on Calf Rock, were the last we saw of 
Ireland. Before long both were left far behind us, the steamer 
had taken her bearings for a long stretch across the ocean, and 

N* 



298 A HOLIDAY TOUR. 

day after day the transatlantic voyage continued, with little to 
see but sea and sky, clouds and rain, fog and storm, as the 
vessel rocked and rolled, but pushed steadily onward. 

HOMEWARD BOUND. 

Day after day the monotonous voyage continued ; the pas- 
sengers nearly all sea-sick at the beginning, for a heavy head 
sea stirred up the waves and entirely demoralized every one's 
internal arrangements ; but gradually growing better, until on 
Sunday, October 20, almost all were able to appear at divine 
service, conducted in the main saloon, by the captain. But 
the relief was only temporary, for another storm struck us, and 
again the cabin was demoralized and the people were unhappy. 
The steamer rolled and pitched for two days as a heavy head 
sea retarded her voyage, and when every one's sides were aching 
and all wished they had never ventured on the ocean, the sun 
reappeared and the sea became comparatively calm again. The 
joy at returning ease was shown by an impromptu concert on 
the evening of Wednesday, October 23, and after an attrac- 
tive entertainment, in which one of the ship's stewards, an 
elocutionist and comic vocalist of great power, carried off the 
chief honors, we went to bed feeling happy. But the happi- 
ness was of short duration. Just as Thursday morning came 
another gale struck us, which I afterwards learned had been 
sent us direct from Philadelphia. The ship rolled fearfully. 
Everything seemed to be running down-hill. You were knocked 
about in the little state-rooms ; the crockery was rolled off the 
tables, and the sea-sickness was renewed. The 24th of Octo- 
ber, with the gale constantly increasing in intensity, as the 
water swept over the decks and the steamer was tossed about, 
will long be remembered by as miserable a party of passengers 
as ever crossed the Atlantic. All day and half the night it 
continued, and one huge wave brought aboard a large horse- 
mackerel, which was duly seized by the stewards. But the 
stout engine continued its unwearying task and drove us 
through the storm, and the gale at. midnight moderated and 
the weather cleared. In the early morning of October 25 
we took aboard the pilot off Nantucket, and he reported ter- 
rible weather, and then the sun coming out cheerfully, and 
the sea being calmed, the passengers once more were happy, 
as they crowded out on the last day to look for land. And the 



HOMEWARD BOUND. 299 

land came, — first Long Island, then Sandy Hook, and enter- 
ing the harbor, the voyage ended. The great engine, which 
had turned the screw a half-million times, stopped. The 
stokers, who had poured three tons of coal in every hour, and 
the engineers who had also every hour dropped on the jour- 
nals two gallons of olive-oil, had a rest. The passengers were 
rid of sea-sickness, and one of the worst voyages across the 
ocean was brought to a close with every one heartily glad to 
be again in America. 

A brief delay at quarantine whilst the port physician satis- 
fied himself that sea-sickness had been the only epidemic on 
board (his inspection being chiefly made through the bottom 
of a tumbler kindly loaned him by the ship's doctor, who did 
likewise) was followed by a sail through the Narrows to the 
pier on North River. Myriads of steam-whistles greeted us 
from all the craft we passed. The noise was deafening, for 
they recognized a ship that all had feared would be wrecked. 
Then, by the aid of several tugs and a steamboat, the great 
steamer was gradually coaxed into her dock. It was night 
when we were landed, and a crowd of stevedores came aboard 
to carry off the baggage. " Is this New York?" asked one of 
our English passengers. He was told it was. " Why, it looks 
very much like Ireland," he continued, as the regiment of Hi- 
bernians noisily wrestled with the trunks. Bidding good-by 
to the captain, and bestowing our last shillings on the stewards, 
we went ashore and there saw Captain Burton and his squad 
of Custom-House officers drawn up in martial array across 
the wharf. The hearts of seventy-two cabin passengers sank 
within them. It is all very well to say "I am an American" 
to the unsophisticated Custom-House officers in Europe, and 
thus slip through the tariffs over there, but the American 
official of that ilk knows his fellow-countrymen too well to be 
thus bamboozled. How those passengers who had been trail- 
ing their new dresses over the decks all through the voyage, 
to make them look old and dirty, trembled for the result I* 



* During the voyage this dread of the Custom-House examination was 
the chief subject of conversation, especially among the ladies. Nearly 
all had bought new clothing, and they appeared on deck in the worst 
weather in the most costly costumes and ornaments, so as to be able 
to tell the Custom-House officer at New York they had worn them. A 
young and handsome widow among the passengers brought over two 



300 A HOLIDAY TOUR. 

The trunks were all brought out and put upon the wharf, and 
Captain Burton detailed his officers to examine them. The 
ladies, with great ability, explained how very few things they 
had, and how very old they were, and how awfully anxious 
they were to catch the next train. People who never knew 
how to strap trunks before were adepts at it as soon as the 
officer's back was turned. On all sides there was a disgorging 
of small sums of money for duties, and at last the chalk- 
marks were put on. Never before had chalk seemed so de- 
lightful, and half the passengers went out with themselves all 
chalked in their eagerness to get their boxes away. The ex- 
amination was careful, quick, and kindly done ; and, in my 
case, the shabby condition in which I had got, added to the 
fact, so well known to Custom-House officers, that in news- 
paper circles honesty and poverty usually go hand-in-hand, got 
me through the ordeal pleasantly. " There is no duty on old 
clothes," said the official, as he chalked my overcoat ; " but I 
advise you to get a new one as soon as possible." The chalk- 
marks on, there was another Hibernian irruption, which seized 
the baggage and took it off the wharf. Then, as we emerged, 
it seemed as if Bedlam had broken loose, as the horde of 
hackmen tried to seize us and our goods. Such howling, 
screaming, and tugging I never heard or saw in any part of 
Europe. The fellows who were not trying to get possession of 
us were endeavoring to drive their wagons over us. The foreign 
passengers whose first view of America was thus opened, were 
sure that the red Indians had made a raid into New York. 
But we survived it, though we got out of New York as soon 
as possible, and were soon rushing over the Pennsylvania 
Bailroad, homeward bound, finding it as complete a railway 
as the best one abroad. 

On this tour, which has now ended, I was accompanied by 
my wife and two children, and also by a lady and gentleman 



meerschaum pipes as presents. She was afraid the officials would not 
pass them unless they had been smoked, and a young gentleman on 
hoard gallantly offered to do it. But, unfortunately, sea-sickness dogged 
him so closely that he never could muster sufficient courage to begin the 
task. Several times daily he explained this to the lady as they un- 
steadily walked the deck together; and finally, though not courageous 
enough to smoke the pipes, he did get bold enough to make her a pro- 
posal of marriage. 



HOMEWARD BOUND. 301 

of Philadelphia, so that throughout the journey it was a party 
of six. On the Continent we were also accompanied by a 
Philadelphia lady who is a resident of Paris. The chilcfren. 
a boy of ten years and a girl of six, were chiefly engaged 
throughout the journey in swindling untutored European 
landlords, who contracted to board them for half price, but 
when they saw how much the children could eat, wished they 
hadn't. This party went through Europe like a disciplined 
army. Each one had a regular duty to perform. One person 
did all the paying, and the others thus saved unending gratu- 
ities. Every evening the journey of the next day was mapped 
out. We took no trunks when on the wing, but, instead, had 
a number of stout linen bags made, in which clothing was 
carried in convenient parcels, bound by shawl straps. Each 
person had certain parcels to carry and look after. When a 
train arrived at the station, in a moment our procession started 
out to coach or omnibus with bags in hand, but one person 
doing the inquiring or talking and the others following their 
leader. We were a large enough party to strike the porters 
and hackmen with awe and the landlords with respect. Every- 
where we met kind treatment, and in the rare cases where in- 
civility was attempted, it was met with stern rebuke in the 
good old American language, no matter what might be the 
tongue the offender spoke, This language, as I have before 
remarked, carries the strongest weight in Europe. They may 
not understand what is said, but they know the dialeet, and 
also know that it means business. Thus I end the record of 
this holiday tour, — hastily and imperfectly written to jot down 
impressions as they came ; written sometimes on rushing rail- 
way cars or tossing steamers, sometimes by the roadside, some- 
times at midnight by the uncertain light of the solitary candle 
the European landlord furnished at a high price in the apart- 
ment of his guest ; but written always in good spirit, and 
with the intention of recording an honest American impres- 
sion, be it never so hasty, of scenes as they occurred. I hope 
it may have revived in some, pleasant memories of former 
homes or bygone visits ; and that it may have given to others 
an idea of what opportunity may have thus far prevented their 
seeing. But whilst the impressions given of European gran- 
deur, beauty, strength, and power may be great, indeed, still 
stronger is the impression made that no country in Europe is 

26 



302 A HOLIDAY TOUR. 

as suitable a home for the American as the United States. 
He goes abroad gladly ; he satiates with sight-seeing, and he 
comes home with a zest for American comforts, institutions, 
habits, and ideas that he never felt before. This is the strongest 
lesson an European tour teaches, and whilst we may look on 
at the sights and glories of the Old World, a brief experience 
convinces that they are not to be exchanged for the more sober, 
yet more comfortable, realities of the New World. With this 
as the most strongly-fixed impression of all made by the visit, 
I close the Holiday Tour. 



IE"DEX. 



Aar River, 229, 239. 

Abbeville, 277. 

Abelard and Heloise, tomb, 156. 

Absenteeism in Ireland, 45. 

Acclimatation Garden, 276. 

Agriculture, English, 12S, 134." 

Aix-la-Chapelle, 191. 

Aix-la-Cbapelle Cathedral, 191. 

Alexandra Palace, 119. 

Allan, Bridge of, 66. 

Alma Bridge, 159. 

Alnwick Castle, 75. 

Alpine negotiation, 256. 

Alpine scenery, 218. 

Alpnach, 220, 228. 

Amberien, 267. 

American-French, 143, 146, 165, 

170, 176. 
American Minister, 117. 
American Steamship Line, 14, 76. 
Amiens Cathedral, 277. 
Andre's tomb, 97. 
Antrim, Earl of, 50. 
Aquarium, Brighton, 132. 
Arch of Triumph, 142, 151, 157, 

170, 176, 181. 
Ardoyne, 48. 
Argyle, Duke of, 61. 
Arpenaz Cascade, 250. 
Arth, 224. 

Arthur's Seat, 67, 72. 
Arve River, 249, 258. 
Ascensions of Mont Blanc, 252. 
Aubonne, 244. 

Avenue Bois de Boulogne, 181. 
Avenue of the Opera, 176. 
Avon River, 90. 

Bacharach, 201. 
Baden-Baden, 208. 



Baden Castle, 211. 

Baggage, 127. 

Baggage smashing, 278. 

Ballachulish, 63. 

Balloon, 173. 

Bank of England, 108. 

Bank of Ireland, 38. 

Bannockburn, 66. 

Barberine Cascade, 259. 

Barbers, French, 169. 

Basle, 217, 223. 

Baume, 274. 

Bears, 231, 236. 

Beds, 203, 234. 

Beer, 208, 211. 

Belfast, 45. 

Belgium, 185. 

Bellegarde, 266. 

Benmore, 62. 

Ben Nevis, 65. 

Berne, 236. 

Berwick-upon-Tweed, 74. 

Billingsgate, 106, 115. 

Bingen, 202. 

Black Forest, 211. 

Blanc, Mont, 244, 252. 

Blarney Stone, 296. 

Bog-oak jewelry, 297. 

Bois du Boulogne, 141, 180. 

Bonn, 196. 

Bonnivard, 245, 264. 

Boppard, 200. 

Boulogne, 277. 

Boyne River, 42. 

Bread prices, 269. 

Breadalbane, Earl of, 62, 65. 

Breakfasts, French, 169, 171. 

Bridal parties, Parisian, 180. 

Bridge of Sighs, London, 288. 

Brienz Lake, 229, 232. 

303 



304 



INDEX. 



Brighton, 129. 

Britannia Tubular Bridge, 34. 
British Channel Squadron, 22. 
British Museum, 119. 
Browhead Signal Station, 24. 
Brown stout, 39. 
Broxsburne House, 75. 
Brunig Pass, 228. 
Brunswick, Duke of, 247. 
Brussels, 186. 
Brussels Cathedral, 188. 
Bull, Cow, and Calf, 23. 
Burgundy, 272. 
Burton, Captain, 299. 
Bute, Marquis of, 61. 
Butter without salt, 77, 169. 
Byron, 197, 244. 

Cabs, 127, 144, 182. 

Caithness, Earl of, 73. 

Calais, 277. 

Calais-Douvres, steamer, 135, 279. 

Calf-Rock Light, 23, 297. 

Calvin, John, 184, 247. 

Cambrai, 185. 

Canterbury Cathedral, 280. 

Cantyre peninsula, 62. 

Cape Henlopen, 9. 

Cape May, 9, 10. 

Carberry Hill, 75. 

Cardross Castle, 61. 

Cat Castle, 200. 

Cemetery, French, 152. 

Chain Pier, Brighton, 131. 

Chalons, 274. 

Chamois, 231. 

Chainounix, 250, 251. 

Champs Elysees, 141, 142, 152, 174, 

176. 
Chancy, 265. 

Channel crossing, 134, 278. 
Channel passages, 135. 
Chantilly, 184. 
Charcns, 244. 
Charlemagne, 191. 
Charlemagne relics, 191. 
Chatham, 280. 

Chatham's, Earl, tomb, 96, 97. 
Chatsworth, 86. 
Chaucer's tomb, 96 
Chester, 29. 
Chester Castle, 30. 
Chester Cathedral, 31. 
Chester Town Hall, 30. 



Chevet, 176. 
Childs, George W., 97. 
Childwall Abbey, 28. 
Chillon Castle, 245, 264. 
Chimney-pots, 27, 58, 247. 
City of Brussels, steamer, 294. 
Claret wine, 272. 
Cleopatra's Needle, 107. 
Clock, Strasburg, 216. 
Clyde River, 55, 60. 
Coal-fields, 185. 
Coblentz, 198. 
Coilantogle Ford, 66. 
Coleridge, Chief Justice, 31. 
Coleridge, S. T., 194. 
Cologne, 192, 195. 
Cologne Cathedral, 192, 194, 196. 
Cologne water, 192. 
Communists, 151, 155, 157. 
Conipiegne, 184. 
Concert gardens, 176. 
Conde, Prince of, 184. 
Congress, Swiss, 238. 
Conway Castle, 35. 
Coppet, 244. 
Cork, 295. 

Corliss engine, 47, 162. 
Coronation chair, 98. 
Cote d'Or, 272. 
Courbcvoie, 151. 
Cove of Cork, 24, 295. 
Cowper memorial window, 97. 
Craigneish Loch, 62. 
Crec.y. battle-field. 277. 
Credo, Mont, 265. 
Crewe, 293. 
Crinan Canal, 62. 
Crystal Palace, 88, 119. 
Culoz, 267. 

Custom-Houses, 140, 185, 190, 217, 
266, 299. 

Darlington, 76. 

Darnley, Lord, 70, 73. 

Dean Cemetery, 72. 

Dee River, 29. 

Dent de Morcles, 263. 

Dent du Midi, 242, 263. 

Derwent River, 84. 

De Stae'l, Madame, 244. 

Devonshire, Duke of, 86. 

Dickens's manuscripts, 283. 

Dieppe, 133, 137. 

Dijon, 274. 



INDEX. 



305 



Dinners, French, 175. 
Divine service at sea, 20, 298. 
Dixon, John, 107. 
Dogs, 187, 270, 293. 
Donegal, Marquis of, 45. 
Donkeys, 27, 41, 83, 253. 
Dover, 279. 
Dover Castle, 280. 
Drachenfels, 196. 
Dredging-machines, 56, 60. 
Drexel, Harjes & Co., 172. 
Drinking-water, 125. 
Drogheda, 42. 
Dublin, 37. 
Dudley, Earl of, 65. 
Dulwich, 280. 
Dumbarton Castle, 60. 
Dunbar Castle, 75. 
Dunluce Castle, 52. 
Dunolly Castle, 62. 
Dunstaffnage Castle, 63. 
Durham Castle, 76. 
Durham Cathedral, 76. 

Early trains, 183. 
East London, 115, 285. 
Eaton Hall, 32. 
Eau Noire, 259. 
Ecluse, Fortress, 265. 
Edinburgh, 66. 
Edinburgh Castle, 67, 69. 
Education, Council Committee on, 

119. 
Edward the Confessor's tomb, 97, 

93. 
Ehrenbreitstein, 198. 
Elections in Liverpool, 293. 
Elections in Lyons, 269. 
Electric light, 22, 112, 142, 176. 
Emperor Fountain, 89. 
Emperor of Brazil, 50. 
English Channel, 129, 137. 
English pronunciation, 80, 81, 288. 
Equipages, Parisian, 181. 
Esk River, 73. 
Espionage, French, 278. 
Ethiopia, steamer, 60. 
Etive Glen, 65. 
Etive Loch, 63. 
Evain, 245. 

Exclusiveness, English, 126. 
Exposition of 1878, 147, 157. 



Falkenberg, 201. 



Falkirk, 66. 

Farina, Jean Maria, 192. 
Fashions, Paris, 167. 
Fastnet Light, 24, 297. 
Favorite Palace, 211. 
Fete of St. Cloud, 177. 
Filter, Alpine, 242. 
Fin McCool, 51. 
Fire-engines, 132. 
Fire Monument, London, 106 
Firth of Clyde, 55, 61. 
Firth of Forth, 74. 
Five-Fathom Bank, 9. 
Flax, 187. 
Fluelen, 221. 
Fontainebleau, 274. 
Food in England, 123. 
Food in Paris, 145, 148. 
Forclaz Mountain, 260. 
Fountains at Versailles, 148, 
Four Cantons Lake, 220. 
Fourviere, 268. 
French State carriages, 150. 
Freyburg, 241. 
Funerals, English, 27. 
Funerals, French, 153. 
Furstenberg Castle, 201. 
Fyne, Loch, 62. 

Gaming, 209, 245. 
Gateaere, 28. 
Gee, Sir William, 79. 
Geneva, 245, 264. 
Geneva Lake, 242. 
Giant's Causeway, 48. 
Gibbon, 242, 244. 
Giessbach Falls, 229. 
Gifford Gate, 75. 
Glaciers, 242. 
Glasgow, 58. 
Glasgow Cathedral, 58. 
Glencoe, 63. 
Glyn & Co., 109. 
Goat-wagons, 131. 
Gog and Magog, 105. 
Goitre, 262. 
Grand Mulcts, 252. 
| Great St. Bernard Pass, 262. 
Greenock, 55, 56, 61. 
Grosvenor Park, 33. 
Guildhall, 105. 

Guinness's Brewery, Dublin, 89. 
Guinness, Sir Benjamin Lee, 39. 
Gutekunst, F., 285. 



2G* 



306 



INDEX. 



Gutenberg, 202. 
Guy of Warwick, 91. 

Haddon Hall, 84. 

Halle, 186, 187. 

Ham, Fortress, 184. 

Hartington, Marquis of, 86. 

Hathaway, Anne, 93. 

Haulbowline Island, 297. 

Hawkshaw, Sir John, 104. 

Heidelberg, 205. 

Heidelberg Castle, 205. 

Heidelberg University, 205. 

Heimberg, 201. 

Henry VII.'s tomb, 97. 

Herald reading-room, 172. 

Heralds' College, London, 106. 

Herbert memorial window, 97. 

Herbesthal, 190. 

Highlands of Scotland, 62. 

Hobgoblin Hall, 75. 

Holborn Viaduct, 100. 

Holy Ghost Church, 207. 

Holyhead, 35, 295. 

Holyrood, 70, 71. 

Holy Trinity Church, Stratford, 

93. 
Hookes, Nicholas, 35. 
Hotels, Alpine, 234. 
Hotels, English, 122. 
Hotels, German, 203. 
Hotspur's tomb, 79. 
Houndsditch, 115. 
Howth, 37, 41. 
Hugo, Victor, 276. 
Hyde Park, 121. 

Ice-cream, 123, 213. 

Industrial Museum, Glasgow, 50. 

Interlacken, 233. 

Invalides, 151. 

Ireland, 37. 

Ireland's Eye, 42. 

Irish coast, 23. 

Irish mail-train, 33. 

Irish Sea, 294. 

Jaunting-cara, 37, 47, 295. 
Jeffrey, Lord, 68, 72. 
Jena Bridge, 159. 
Jennings estate, 109. 
Joan of Arc, 184. 
Johannisberg Castle, 202. 
Joigny, 274. 



Juugfrau, 224, 235, 260. 
Jura Mountaius, 265, 272. 
Jura Sound, 62. 

Katzanellenbogen, Counts of, 199. 
Kehl, 214. 

Kelvingrove Park, 59. 
Kenilworth, 91. 
Eew Gardens, 120. 
Kingstown, 37. 
Kinsale Head, 24. 
Knights of Liberty, 179. 
Knox, John, 58, 68, 71, 247. 
Konigstuhl, 199,207. 
Kussnach, 220. 
Kylcs of Bute, 61. 

La Batiaz Castle, 261. 

La Harpe, General, 244. 

Lace-making, 186. 

Lager beer, 192. 

Lahn River, 199. 

Lahneck, 199. 

Lamberton Kirk, 75. 

Lasswade, 73. 

Lausanne, 242, 244, 245. 

Leamington, 89. 

Lee River, 295. 

Leicester's tomb, 92. 

Length of ocean voyages, 18. 

Leven, Loch, 63. 

Liebeneck, 199. 

Liege, 190. 

Liffey River, 37. 

Linen manufacture, 47. 

Linlithgow, 66. 

Lion of Lucerne, 220. 

Liverpool, 25, 293. 

Liverpool Bocks, 25, 294.. 

Lloyds, 105. 

London, 94, 280. 

London Bridge, 101. 

London cheap lodging-houses, 291 

London Bocks, 288. 

Long Island, 299. 

Lorch, 201. 

Lore stone, 74. 

Lome, Marquis of, 61. 

Louise and Lome Chambers, 291. 

Lucerne, 219. 

Lucerne, Lake, 220. 

Lungren Lake. 228. 

Lurelie Rock, 200. 

Lyons, 267. 



INDEX. 



307 



McCormick, Richard C, 163. 

MacDonald Clan massacre, 63. 

Mcllwain, Rev. Dr., 46. 

Macon, 274. 

Main River, 202. 

Manners, Lord John, 84. 

Mannheim, 207. 

Mansion House, 105. 

Marck, William de la, 190. 

Marksburg, 199. 

Marne River, 274. 

Martigny, 261. 

Mary, Queen of Scots, 59, 68, 69, 75. 

Mary, Queen of Scots, tomb, 97. 

Mauberge, 185. 

Mauvais Pas, 258. 

Mayence, 202. 

Mayence Cathedral, 204. 

Medway River, 280. 

Meals in England, 124. 

Menage River, 249. 

Mer de Glace, 255, 258. 

Mersey River, 25, 294. 

Mouse River, 190. 

Monk, the, 235. 

Mons, 185. 

Mons Meg, 70, 186. 

Montereau, 274. 

Montets, 258. 

Montmartre, 151, 170. 

Montreux, 244. 

Mont St. Valerien, 151, 170, 177. 

Morat Lake, battle, 241. 

Morges, 244. 

Morrison, Captain Henry, 9, 19. 

Moselle River, 198. 

Mosquitoes, 226. 

Mountain names, 248. 

Mouse Tower, 202. 

Multangular Tower, York, 80. 

Murray, Lindley, 80. 

Museum, British, 119. 

Museum, Brussels, 18S. 

Musical boxes, 246. 

Nahe River, 201. 
Nantucket, 298. 
Nassau, Duke of. mummy, 217. 
Neckar River, 207. 
Necropolis, Glasgow, 58. 
New Haven, 133, 136. 
Newcastle-upon-Tyne, 75. 
Newington, 73. 
Newry, 44. 



Newton's tomb, 97. 
Normandy, 277. 
North Allerton, 76. 
Northumberland, Duke of, 75. 
Notre Dame Cathedral, 152, 276. 
Notre Dame de Fourviere Church, 

269. 
Noyes, General E. F., 117, 170. 
No von, 184. 
Nyon, 244. 

Oban, 62. 

Oberlin's tomb, 216. 

Oberwesel, 200. 

Octopus, 132. 

Octroi, 148. 

Odenwald, 205. 

Office hours in Scotland, 58. 

Offling, William, 30. 

Ohio, steamer, 7, 19. 

Old Clothes Market, 115. 

Old red sandstone, 203. 

Olten, 218. 

Omnibus, 151, 170, 182. 

Oos River, 208. 

Opium smoking, 290. 

Orchy Glen, 65. 

Ouchy, 244, 245. 

Ouse River, 77. 

Overcrowding in Paris, 182. 

Owen, Sir F. Philip C, 2S2. 

Palace of Justice, Brussels, 187. 

Palais Royal, 176. 

Paris, 140. 

Paris by night, 175. 

Parisian homes, 144. 

Pates de fois gras, 217. 

Paxtou, Sir Joseph, 88. 

Peacock Inn, 84. 

Peak of Derbyshire, 87. 

Peat, 44. 

Pennsjdvania Railroad, 18, 300 

Pentland Hills, 67. 

Pere la Chaise, 153. 

Perkeo, 206. 

Peter the Hermit, 277. 

Pfalz, 201. 

Phil's Buildings, 115. 

Phoenix Park, 40. 

Pilatus, Mount, 219, 222. 

Pissevache Falls, 262. 

Place de la Concorde, 176. 

Police, London, 286. 



308 



INDEX. 



Port Rush, 48 

Prangins, 244. 

'Prentice pillar, Rosslin Chapel, 73. 

Preston Pans, 75. 

Printing-House Square, 111. 

Providence House, Chester, 30. 

Pullman palace-cars, 76, 126, 165. 

Quarantine, New York, 299. 
Queen's Park, Glasgow, 59. 
Queenstown, 24, 295. 

Railway conductors, 189. 

Railway, Rigi, 222, 224. 

Railways, Baden, 208, 213. 

Railways, English, 280, 292. 

Railways, French, 271, 276. 

Railways, Swiss, 239, 263. 

Raphael's cartoons, 283. 

RaspaiPs tomb, 155. 

Reading Railroad locomotive, 165. 

Recreation in London, 119. 

Regalia of Scotland, 69. 

Republic, steamboat, 7. 

Reuss River, 219. 

Rheinfels, 200. 

Rheingau, 202. 

Rheinstein, 201. 

Rhine River, 189, 195. 

Rhine wines, 197. 

Rhone River, 242, 245, 231, 264. 

Richmond, Duke of, 282. 

Rigi, Mont, 219, 222. 

Rizzio, David, 70. 

Roberts' Head, 24. 

Roche's Point, 24. 

Rochester, 280. 

Rockville, 74. 

Rocky Island, 297. 

Rolandseck Castle, 197. 

Rolle, 244. 

Rosslin Chapel, 73. 

Rothesay, Duke of, 61. 

Rotten Row, 121. 

Rousseau, 244. 

Rousseau's Island, 245. 

Rowsley, 83. 

Roxburgh, Duke of, 75. 

Rubens, Peter Paul, 188 

Rudesheim, 202. 

Rugby, 293. 

Rutland, Duke of, 84. 

Salisbury Craigs, 67. 



Sambre River, 185. 

Sandford, Sir Herbert, 282. 

Sandstone, 203. 

Sandy Hook, 299. 

Saone River, 268. 

Sarine River, 241. 

Sarnen Lake, 228. 

Savoy, 244, 249. 

Saxe's monument, 216. 

St. Bernard dogs, 259. 

St. Bernard Pass, 262. 

St. Cloud, 151, 177. 

St. Fin Barre, Cathedral, 295. 

St. George's Church, Belfast, 46. 

St. George's Hall, Liverpool, 27. 

St. George's-in-the-East, 289. 

St. Giles' Cathedral, 71. 

St. Gothard Pass, 221. 

St. John Baptist Church, Chester, 

32. 
St. Margaret's Chapel, 70. 
St. Mary's Church, Conway, 35. 
St. Mary's Church, Warwick, 92. 
St. Patrick's Cathedral, Dublin, 39. 
St. Paul's Cathedral, 95. 
St. Quentin, 184. 
St. Thomas' Church, Strasburg, 

216. 
St. Ursula, 193. 
St. Ursula Church, 193. 
St. Ursula Convent, 197. 
St. Waudra Church, 186. 
St. Zoar, 200. 
Scarborough, 81. 
Scheldt River, 184. 
Schliemann's antiquities, 283. 
Schomberg Castle, 201. 
Schools in Wales,, 36. 
Scone, stone of, 63, 98. 
Scott, Sir Walter, 59, 66, 68, 69, 74, 

87, 190. 
Sea-bathing, 82, 129. 
Sea-horses, 133. 
Sea of Ice, 255, 258. 
Sca-sickncss, 10, 278, 298. 
Seine River, 151, 170, 177, 134, 274. 
Scmjiach Lake, 218. 
Sens, 274. 
Seven Sisters, 201. 
Shakspeare, 92. 
Shakspeare Memorial, 93. 
Shanty town, Paris, 160. 
Sheepshanks collection, 282. 
Shillelahs, 297. 



INDEX. 



309 



Ship-building, 57. 

Siebenbierge, 196. 

Siegfried, 197. 

Silk manufacture, 267. 

Silver Needle Mountain, 258. 

Sirnplon, 262. 

Smith, Mrs. Amanda, 21. 

Smithfield, 106, 115. 

Soldiers, British, 43. 

Soldiers, Swiss, 238. 

Somme River, 277. 

Sooneck, 201. 

South Kensington Museum, 119, 

281. 
Spa, 190. 
Spielhorn, 224. 
Spike Island, 295, 297. 
Stage-bill, old, 78. 
Stahlick Castle, 201. 
Stanley, Lady Augusta's tomb, 99. 
Steam-digger, 293. 
Steamship inspection, 20. 
Stephenson, Robert, 34. 
Stirling Castle, 6Q. 
Stores in Paris, 167. 
Strasburg, 214. 
Strasburg Cathedral, 215. 
Stratford-on-Avon, 92. 
Street railways, 26, 58, 119, 182. 
Sunday at sea, 20, 298. 
Sunday in Baden-Baden, 208. 
Sunday in Belfast, 46. 
Sunday in London, 94. 
Sunday in Lyons, 269. 
Sunday in Paris, 147. 
Swindles at Giant's Causeway, 54. 
Sybilla Augusta, 212. 

Tantallan Castle, 75. 
Tavernier, 244. 
Taxation in London, 113. 
Taxation on equipage, 122. 
Taylor. Bayard, 117. 
Tell, William, 221, 231. 
Tell's Chapel, 221. 
Tete Noire, 259. 
Theatre Becker, 179. 
Theatre Guignolet, 175. 
Theatres, puppet, 174. 
Thiers, Adolphe, 152. 
Thiers' tomb, 154. 
Thompson, Richard A., 282. 
Thornton, John, 79. 
Thorwaldsen, 202, 220 



Three Kings of Cologne, 194. 
Thun Lake, 233, 239. 
Tidal gauges, 8. 
Times office, London, 111. 
Tipping, 88, 92, 235. 
Tombs, French, 154. 
Tonnere, 274. 
Transatlantic mails, 295. 
Transatlantic traffic, 15. 
Trendell, A. J. R., 282. 
Trianons, 150. 
Trient Gorge, 260, 263. 
Trocadero Palace, 151, 159. 
Tuileries, 173. 
Tumbrils, 170. 
Tun, Heidelberg, 206. 
Tweed River, 75. 
Tweeddale, Marquis of, 75. 
Tyndrum, 65. 
Tyne River, 75. 
Tyrconnel, Lady, 43. 

Underground Railway, 100, 11&. 
Uri, 220. 

Valois, 244. 

Vauban, 185. 

Vaud, 244. 

Vegetables in England, 123. 

Vegetables in Paris, 145. 

Vernon, Dorothy, 85. 

Versailles, 149. 

Verviers, 190. 

Vevay, 244. 

Victoria Embankment, 101. 

Victoria Regia, 89, 120. 

Virgins' bones, 192. 

Visnau, 224. 

Voltaire, 242, 244. 

Vouache, Mont, 265. 

Wacht am Rhein, 198. 

Wales, 34. 

Walter, John, 112. 

Warwick Cattle, 90. 

Warwick, Earl of, 91. 

Washerwomen, 238, 246. 

Water of Leith, 68. 

Waterloo, 188. 

Watkins, Captain Frederick, 294. 

Waverley Memorial, 68. 

Wear River, 76. 

Wellington's tomb, 96. 

Welsh, John, 117. 



310 

Westminster Abbey, 96. 
Westminster, Duke of, 32. 
Wetterhorn, 224, 235. 
Whitechapel, 285. 
Wilson, Erasmus, 107. 
Winkelreid, Arnold, 218. 
Wisper River, 201. 
Wood-carving, 229, 232 
Wolf's Crag, 75. 
Wye River, 84. 



INDEX. 



Yonne River, 274. 
York, 77. 
York Castle, 78. 
York Minster, 78. 

Zahringen, Berthold, 236, 241. 
Zoological Garden, London, 119. 
Zoological Garden, Paris, 276. 
Zug Lake, 224. 
Zurich, 221, 223. 



THE END. 



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